


Brightest in the Dark

by FangornMage



Series: Forged in Dragon's Fire [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: AU Meeting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Dragon Age DLC, F/M, First Love, Grey Wardens, M/M, Mages and Templars, Mutual Pining, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 10:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 150,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4056997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangornMage/pseuds/FangornMage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally posted on FFN, but crossposting here now. A light is brightest in the dark, and what a better beacon than love? AU, Hawke was captured by the Templars as child and brought to the Circle. There he grows, learns, and meets his other half. But does his dear blonde healer see him the same way? Covers all three acts and DLC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on FFN, but publishing here now because of frustrations with the site. This work is being re-edited as it is posted here. Comments welcome and wanted, much love to the readers! - Fangorn

They caught him a mile away from his home when he had snuck off to get away from the howling of the new babies. Ever since those terrible, smelly twins had come into this world he hadn't recieved a single moment of quiet. All he wanted was to practice his new lightning spell with Father, but he was too busy helping Mother with Carver and Bethany. So, left to his own devices and too bored to stay inside the house any longer he wandered to the outskirts of their small town of Winterhall. And just his luck, there was a group of Templars who were escorting a Revered Mother to Redcliffe. One saw him flick a tiny bolt of lightning and it was all over. The Knight-Captain had scooped him up despite his protests and slung him over shoulder. Garrett screamed and kicked and begged, but his words fell on deaf ears. The Mother was kinder to him than her Templar guards, giving him comforting hugs and even slipping him a few sweets. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as Father had said. Maybe the others were as kind as the Mother.

As most mages were already aware, this was not the case. Garrett was greatly disappointed upon arriving at Kinloch Hold. The Templar knights were just as cold and imposing as the ones that had taken him from Winterhall. The First Enchanter, an man about Father's age named Irving, had smiled kindly at him, but in the dark of the apprentices' quarters the grief of losing his family and the thoughts of never seeing them again ... He whimpered and gripped his pillow tighter, willing himself not to scream. The bed above him rustled and the person above climbed down the ladder.

"Hey you . . . new kid" Garrett sat up, "hold on" the other kid waved their hand and conjured up a tiny wisp of pulsing blue light. It wasn't much, but it allowed Garrett to see his bunk mate. The other kid looked just a little older than Garrett. "Hmm, you're shorter than my last bunk mate. So, what's your name?"

"Garrett." He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his new apprentice robe, "who are you?"

"Wilhelm Von Huldibrand. But everyone calls me Anders." His accent was strong on the W and V, it almost made the younger boy laugh. "So, did the Templars catch you or did your parents hand you over?"

"My parents would never hand me over!" Anders shushed him with a hand over his mouth.

"Quiet. You don't want the Templars finding you awake after lights out." Garrett nodded. "You're lucky then. Most of us get handed over by our parents." The older boy looked a little sad when he said this. He had probably been one of those who had been treated with all the respect of a two headed calf.

"My father's a mage, he won't let them keep me!" Anders smiled at him, his honey colored eyes widening with excitement. "What?"

"Your father's a mage? An apostate, wow." Garrett cocked his head, he'd never heard the term apostate before. "You know, free mage? Not living in a tower."

"Then I'm going to be one too." Anders gave him a small half smile, but didn't seem to buy into Garrett's belief of freedom. He had been there for sometime and had seen several of the older mages try to escape only to be dragged back and tossed into solitary. That didn't dampen his own desire to break out, but he realized he would have to be smarter than the Templars hunting him.

"You need to escape the tower first. Maybe even swim across the lake," the older boy shivered a bit, "it's very cold though. We had to have swimming lessons once and I nearly froze to death." One of the enchanters had jumped into the water, still fully dressed in the heavy wool robes of a full mage and rescued him before he turned blue with hypothermia. The enchanter had used a small warming charm to bring a bit of color back into the young boy and had nearly lost it when he was told the Templars were attempting to teach the children to swim by tossing them headlong into the frigid waters. The swimming class was officially disbanded once word had gotten back to the Knight Commander and First Enchanter Irving. "Oh, and most important of all, you must destroy your phalactery."

"What's a phalactery?" Anders chuckled, "what? What's so funny?"

"Oh Garrett, I think the Tower just got a bit less boring." That was the start of a beautiful friendship. In a few short weeks the pair became inseparable, the younger dark haired mage following the elder around like a shadow. Not that Anders minded, he rather liked having the other around. Garrett was already much more skilled at his magic than the other kids his age, it was nice to have someone he could practice with other than the senior enchanters. Garrett managed to lie about his surname for years to avoid his family coming under scrutiny if the Templars were still poking around. As many of the common folk in Ferelden had no surname, there was no need to give one. For ten years Hawke lived in the Tower, relatively content with his lot in life, but like Anders his desire to return to the outside world was never fully stamped out.

(10 years time)

Garrett had fallen asleep in the library, again, Anders mused. As he had just passed his sixteenth name day, it would not be long before he was Harrowed and until that time he would be spending every waking minute he could in the library. Not that he really needed to, he was a prodigy and everyone knew it. Irving had taken the boy under his wing within the first six months of his stay at the Tower. The First Enchanter was always kind to the apprentices and even willing to let certain slip ups of smaller rule infractions go unpunished at times. But it was rare for him to take such a vested interest in one pupil. Irving had seen his potential and guided him to the schools of magic that best suited his talents. Garrett excelled at the schools of primal and elemental magicks, able to conjure a small storm of electricity or rain down fireballs at the spiders at would sometimes infest the tunnels where rarer potion ingrediants were kept. It made Anders a bit envious, but each had their own talents. Garrett could set people on fire and Anders would wiggle his fingers and make the burns go away.

"Hello grumpy, you're sleeping through dinner" he shook the younger mage's shoulder, almost getting swatted by one of Garrett's large hands. Maker, did that kid have huge hands. And Anders knew the saying about men with big hands... "Wakey, wakey! Get up or there won't be anything left for you."

"Shu' up Anders. I need to finish this book. Maker's bloody balls, how long was I out?" Anders laughed as Garrett riffled through the stacks of papers, "here" he thrust a paper into Ander's hands "test me on the ice spells, I think I might have missed.."

"No."

"No? What do you mean no? My Harrowing could be any day now! Do you want me to fail?" Garrett snapped at the older mage as he tugged at the dark unruly mop that was in dire need of cleaning. He'd been so busy with studying he'd been neglecting some of his other needs. If he waited long enough, Anders was certain he would hear the boy's stomach growl from lack of lunch. Garrett was frowning and glaring at the older boy, but Anders only smiled at him. Every apprentice went through this insane, twitchy phase before their test. Most worried without need, but some...well Garrett wasn't one of those. He'd be fine.

"If you fail, it won't be lack of knowledge, it'll be because you passed out from hunger. Now, let's go eat, healer's orders." Garrett growled, but didn't protest. Anders was very pleased with himself, he liked being able to use his authority as a full-fledged enchanter. Even if it annoyed Garrett to no end. He was only a few years older than him.

"Fine. You're an ass you know that?"

"It is one of my best qualities. Now, stop oggling it and let's get dinner." Garrett's stoic face finally cracked in a smile. Anders always knew what it took to make the younger man laugh. A too rare thing and Anders was hardly the only one who thought that. Garrett set aside his books and stood up with a cracking sound as his joints adjusted to the new position. He gave the stack of tomes one last look before deciding that he could come back to it later. He was starting to feel really, really hungry. He'd probably eat a horse if he could find one.

"What's for dinner?" The two mages climbed up the stairs from the first level to the upper floors where the dining hall and living quarter for the Templars were located. The main library, where most of the apprentice's practiced and studied, was on ground level. It was rather ironic considering it was also where the only entrance in and out of the Tower was located. Apprentices were generally the ones who were more tempted to try their luck escaping than their elders who had for the most part accepted their lot in life. Garrett had only been allowed one brief visit outside the Tower to the small village that the ferryman lived in. He had been accompanied by a Templar and the First Enchanter. Irving had business with one of the local farmers who supplied a large amount of the Tower's meat and had decided it would be good to bring his young apprentice along. Perhaps he thought that someday Garrett would be his replacement and need to be able to negotiate the price of potatoes. More likely, he had seen the way his apprentice would stare out the window of his office sometimes and thought the boy would take it as a treat. It didn't matter, Garrett had been thrilled when his boots hit solid ground that wasn't soggy from lake water. He had even been allowed to have a meal at the local inn, a sadly disappointing bowl of mealy potatoes with broth and what was probably beef. He ended up with a case of food poisoning and spent two days in agony with a bucket kept close to his head. The Tower food had actually tasted a tiny bit better after that awful experience. 

"Fereldan lamb and pea stew." Anders made a gagging noise, he hated the Tower food. Then again, he had never gotten food poisoning from questionable meat during any of his previous attempts at escape, "at least that's the fancy name for gray mush. Oh, hello kitty!" Anders scooped up the tower's tabby mouser from one of the window ledges along the stairwell.

"You're too fond of the furry abomination." Anders stuck out his tongue as he stroked behind the cat's ears. Garrett could only roll his eyes as the other settled the little orange beast around his shoulders. Anders got along well enough with most of the people in the Tower (well the mages that is), but if there was anything he loved it was that cat. And shooting lightning. The cat hated Garrett though and tended to leave him 'presents' in his shoes and one a few memorable occasions, a half eaten rat on his head while he was sleeping. "He's evil, I swear!"

"Mr. Wiggums? Evil? Not possible," Anders scratched under the cat's furry chin and it purred, "he's a sweetheart. Just look at those eyes." The cat narrowed it's yellow eyes and Garrett moved away before the monster could scratch him again. The cat leapt from the blonde's shoulders and landed on an empty table. It arched it's back and gave a single meow before running off to find more rats to hunt. 

The dining hall was packed by the time the two mages finished climbing the stairs. The stew must actually be edible tonight. One of Garrett's friends, Aeryn Surana, waved a hand to catch his attention. She had saved a spot for him at the apprentice table. The two parted as Anders took a spot at the slightly less crowded tables reserved for the enchanters. 

"I wasn't sure you were going to come to dinner tonight. I thought we were going to sneak you a sandwich in the library later." Garrett shrugged and tore himself a chunk of hot bread to dip in the stew. Aeryn ate much slower, eating the thick stew like a proper lady rather than a pirate on shore leave. "Hey, slow down, you'll choke if you keep going at that rate." Garrett did slow down, only long enough to empty his cup of water. The red headed elf girl just giggled at him. "You're such a pig."

"I'm a growing boy. Not all of us are tiny, tiny elves." Aeryn laughed and gave him a small jab with her elbow. Aeryn was indeed quite small. She barely cleared five feet and Garrett could easily pick her up and carry her on his shoulders all day if needed. 

"Or pretty healers." Garrett almost spat out his food. "Got you. He is very pretty though, if I were into humans. You're all so . . . beefy."

"Even me? I always thought I was the dainty type." To demonstrate his point, Garrett raised his pinky as he took another drink of water. Aeryn just raised an eyebrow and snorted at him. 

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?" Garrett feigned a hurt expression, "oh come on, you're not nearly as bad as some of those Templars. Then again, you don't wear a metal skirt."

"You don't know what I wear under my robes. I could be. Like to find out?"

"Oh my, what an invitation, how will I ever resist?" A couple of the younger apprentices were staring at them now, but their friends knew this was normal behavior for both. Aeryn was the Tower's third biggest flirt, first being Daylen Amell and second was Anders. They were the ones that kept Tower life from feeling too much like a prison. "Whatever will we tell your boyfriend. Actually, we could make this a very fun threesome." That earned another hot blush from Garrett.

"Shut up would you?" He was starting to regret telling Aeryn about his crush on Anders. Granted, she had already guessed it from the way Garrett would follow the older mage around like a lovesick mabari pup. His eyes would light up and she could just imagine a tail wagging whenever Anders so much as looked in his direction. They had been thick as thieves since the first day they met. In their first few years, Anders would sometimes get grand ideas for pranks on the Templars or other mages and Garrett would follow his lead. They would both end up scrubbing floors or peeling potatoes as punishment, but be laughing the entire time. As they had gotten older, the friendship had become deeper and more integral to their persons. It was probably the only thing that kept Anders from fully escaping the Tower. He wanted his freedom, but he didn't want to leave his best and dearest companion behind. He hid it behind colorful jokes and flirtations, keeping everyone in the dark. Being open about the people you loved simply gave the your jailors too much power. If they suspected something beyond lust, the Templars would separate the mages and in some cases send them to other Circles. Love was better kept a game. A game that could burn the players if they weren't careful. 

Garrett did not participate in such actions, preferring to keep his heart locked up. He wanted to tell his crush how much he loved him, but it just seemed to risky. At least he had a friend who would listen to his complain and give him a shoulder to lean on. Aeryn was like a sister, or what he imagined a sister to be like. She had been so good about listening to him and keeping his secret. He would have gone crazy without her.

"You know I'm teasing, sweetheart. But look on the bright side."

"What?" He said not a bit sullenly. 

"You'll always have me. Well, not in that way. But you catch my meaning." She wrapped her small arms around him in an attempt to give him a big hug, but her arms didn't quite reach all the way around. He laughed and returned the gesture, his longer arms going fully around her thin frame. The two went back to their dinner, unaware that someone else had been watching them.

"Thank the Maker, I was beginning to think I was unlovable." The rest of dinner passed in relative quiet, as much as a room filled with a couple hundred people could be. When he had finished his stew Garrett returned to the library and his mountain of papers. He attempted to finish another chapter on the magic of primal forces, but on a belly full of stew his resolve didn't last long. A short hour, and a secret tryst in a closet, later Anders was passing through the library to head up to the enchanters' quarters he found the younger mage slumped over his table fast asleep once again.

"Hello sleepy head. Those books make a great pillow, for a golem." He considered waking Garrett, but decided against it. If he woke him up he'd be up all night. And then grouchy the next day. "Sleep well you big baby." Anders pushed Garrett's dark bangs out of his face, smiling tenderly at his friend. He was so sweet in his sleep with those lovely lips parted just so. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked. It was such a shame that he and Aeryn were an item, otherwise he might say something. Or do something. Still, as much as he slept around, he did try to avoid those who were already spoken for. Until the day Garrett and Aeryn broke it off he would keep his distance and play the game. But the moment they were through he would be ready to jump in.


	2. Perchance to Dream

Dedicated to L.D, it's been three years since we lost you, but we still miss you every day.

(In the Dreaming)

He awoke to the sound of a rooster crowing. That was odd, there weren't any such birds anywhere near the tower.k He didn't see the wood of the top bunk above him, but the thick straw padding of a thatched roof. He turned his head to see the red light of dawn streaming through an open winidow with the smell of upturned soil and livestock filtering in. Garrett wasn't sure how he had ended up in this place. His last memory was of himself falling asleep in the library, again. One of the younger enchanters, an elf named Alim Hassan. Alim Hassan had been offering him some help with entropy magic. He had never been especially gifted in that branch of magic. It seemed to dark for his tastes. He didn't like the idea of draining the life force from another creature. It had practical applications in war, but Garrett didn't see such a future for himself. Mages had not been allowed to use their power in such a way since King Maric had taken back the Theirin throne. But it was something that just might come in handy for his Harrowing, so he submitted to Alim's teachings. They had been in the main library talking about the differences of weakness and paralysis hexes, then... His mind was a blank. What had happened . . . Alim had been droning on, boring as usual, and then? Well he had woken up in this bed.

"Garrett" a sweet feminine voice called, "time to get up my boy. Father needs your help in the fields." Father? But he..no..Father was waiting. He suddenly recalled promising to help with sowing the seeds for the next season's harvest. 

"Yes, mother." He rolled out of bed and pulled on his boots. He climbed down the ladder to the main room. Mother was cooking some porridge and Bethany kneading some dough. His sister had her back to him and he could see smudges of flour on the corners of her apron. She and Mother were laughing about something as they went about their work. He didn't see his brother and assumed Carver must already be in the field. "See you later." His mother turned around and smiled. The corners of her eyes had the tiniest of crows feet. They crinkled a bit as she smiled at him, giving her a gentle slightly careworn appearance. For some reason he found himself thinking 'when had she developed those'? She wrapped her arms around him and planted a kiss on his stubble covered cheek. He was almost fully grown, it wouldn't be long before he could grow a full beard just like Father.

"I love you my darling boy. You know that right?"

"Of course. I'll see you later!" He bounded out the door to the open fields. He could see the wavering forms of his father and brother in the distance. He trotted over to find his Father kneeling on ground cutting away at some of the herbs they had planted the previous spring. The elfroot and spindleweed had blossomed well beyond his Father's expectations.

"You're finally up, much longer and I would have sent Carver back to get you." Malcolm was snipping some elfroot leaves to make some more health potions and maybe a poultice or two if there was enough left over. Father had learned how to make a number of potions during his many years traveling across Thedas. When one worked with mercenaries, they learned to prepare for injuries. Now that his eldest was soon to be a man, he was going to teach Garrett how to make elfroot potion so he could travel prepared too. "But you're here now, I'm so glad the First Enchanter let you come home."

"He did? I thought they never let people go." Garrett's head began to hurt and he had to shut his eyes as a spike of pain shot through his frontal lobe. As he blinked the landscape was getting hazier now. What was going on? Memories surged forward, passing his Harrowing, the Enchanter smiling and giving him a written declaration of his freedom, his parents weeping as their baby boy came home . . . But something was wrong, what about Anders, he couldn't leave him behind, could he? He was his best friend and he could never imagine just leaving him. They had been through everything together that ever mattered, that couldn't just end!

"Of course, how else would you be here?" Malcolm gripped his shoulder with iron strength. "You don't think I'm lying, do you?" Malcolm's face wavered, there was something underneath it, many eyes and jagged teeth... "You dare call your father a liar!"

"No, I.."

"Back you foul beast!" A figure in armor ran towards them, swinging a huge broadsword, slicing Malcolm in half. The facade broke, revealing a mutated creature that had never been human. The demon that had been impersonating Carver charged, only to meet the same fate at the spirit's sword. It gave a roar before it slid down dead. Garrett stumbled, the demon's hold on his mind was broken, how could he have been so easily deceived? "Are you well mortal?"

"Fine. Who're you?" The armored man sheathed his blade and gave a small bow.

"I am a spirit of Justice. I have watched your progress and feared the demon would do you harm before you realized you were in the Fade. The desire demons will plague you no longer." The whole landscape began to waver and fade, revealing a jagged, rocky area that was lit by numerous white wisps. In the distance, Garrett could see the floating form of the black city. The shadowy form seemed to emit an air of malice as he stared. He had seen it numerous times in his dreams, but it had never seemed so intimidating before. It was probably because of the area of the Fade he was in. Some areas were ruled by powerful demons and reflected their master's personalities.

"So, now what? Do I wake up?" The spirit nodded.

"You must travel to the edge of the dream, then you will wake." The spirit pointed to the horizon, "you must hurry, those demons were but servants to a far more powerful one in this dream, the others will attack once they realize what has happened. Take this" Justice handed him a staff, or what passed for a staff in the Fade, "use it wisely." Garrett gave it a quick twirl, it was just like his in the real one.

"Thanks. Until next time?" The spirit was silent, maybe it was hoping there would be no next time. Garrett strapped the staff to his back and started running for the horizon. He needed to get back. He had to pass his Harrowing. There were people waiting for him on the other side. Aeryn. Anders. "Focus, Garrett, no need to call every single desire demon in the Fade." With a quick haste spell he found the ground flying away. He was going to make it!

'You escape this time, little mage' a curling whisper wrapped around his mind, 'but true tests never end. I will be there, waiting on the edge of your dreams. You can't run forever...'  
The horizon burst into light.

(The Tower)

It felt like someone had been tap dancing the Ferelden reel on the inside of his skull. Had one of the apprentices gotten a hand on some Antivan Brandy, again. No, that wouldn't explain his Fade experience. He had never had such a vivid dream before. Wait, that wasn't just a dream. His Harrowing, it must have been his Harrowing.

"Ahh, you're awake" First Enchanter Irving helped him to his feet, "you did well in your first Fadewalk. Congratulations, Enchanter Garrett." The Templar guards who had been part of his vigil put away their weapons now that it was clear he was no abomination. Slowly, memories came back to him. He had been in the library with Alim when one of the Templars had come to escort him to the First Enchanter's office. It seemed odd, as he had never needed an escort before, but he decided it was just better to comply and not annoy the man with the large sword. They had passed Irving's office and continued on to the top floor. There he had found his mentor along with the Knight Commander. Between them was a font filled with glowing lyrium. He had been told to drink from the font as it was for him to undergo his Harrowing. Garrett had wanted to ask questions, but the stern look in the Knight Commander's eyes stopped him. He had swallowed the bitter, chalky fluid without coughing or gagging. The warmth of primal magic had flowed through him and filled every cell. Then, he had fallen into darkness. The lyrium had sent his mind into the Fade where a demon had been summoned to test him. Now he knew why the Harrowing was kept so secret.

"Thank you First Enchanter, I couldn't have done it without your guidance." And that of Enchanters Niall, Wynne, Leorah, and of course Anders. He had learned though it was good to play the bureaucratic game and suck up to his superiors.

"Only possible with a keen mind. No doubt you are exhausted from your experience." They started walking down to the apprentices' quarters, the Templars locking the top level behind them. "Rest up, this will be your last night in the apprentices' quarters. Tomorrow you will be moved to the Enchanters' floor after you pick your new staff."

"I look forward to it. Good night sir." The First Enchanter gave him a fatherly look and bade him a pleasant night. As he shut the door to the apprentices' quarters he realized just how drained he was. He sat down on the edge of his bunk and kicked off his boots. Mr. Wiggums would probably leave another hairball in them, but he was too tired to put them away. Garrett was asleep before his head hit the pillow. His dreamless sleep did not last long as someone slid into the narrow bunk with him. It wasn't the first time someone had joined him in his bunk, so it didn't set off his alarms. It was always one of two people, Aeryn or Anders. Though since Anders' Harrowing it had dwindled down to just Aeryn. She often got lonely at nights as she had shared a bed with a twin brother before being taken to the Circle. It was one of the things she had missed most about her old life. Garrett had offered to let her cuddle with him on the nights being alone was too much. With Garrett she was able to close her eyes and pretend she was in the Denerim alienage again. "Aeryn?"

"Nope. Though if she joins in, nevermind actually this bed is too small for three." Garrett's pulse raced. It didn't help that Anders was pressed so close and was wrapping an arm around him. They had done this many times as children, both scared and homesick, taking what comfort they could from each other. But neither had been children for quite some time. "So," his breath hot against Garrett's ear, "passed the Harrowing, knew you would."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Anders chuckled low and tightened his grip around Garrett's waist.

"It also means no more bunks. Have to tell you, the beds upstairs, so much nicer." The mention of bed was bringing some rather heated fantasies to mind. Damn that all too pretty mage.

"Guess I'll know soon enough." Garrett felt himself falling back asleep despite the warm body pressed so deliciously close to him. He yawned louder than intended. Anders ran a hand through his hair and shushed him.

"Sleep, long day tomorrow." Garrett smiled as those long fingers carded through his thick black hair. It felt so nice, for a moment he could pretend they were lovers stealing a moment in the dark. He would treasure these moments, reliving them in his dreams. Soon he was snoring, Anders entwining their hands. He wished he could stay all night, but it would not be good for either of them if the Templars caught them like this. Sighing he pressed a kiss to the younger mage's temple, "good night, miene liebe." Tomorrow he would replace the happy, glib mask he wore for all to see, but for now, in this moment, he would be himself. Tomorrow would come all too soon.

Note:  
miene liebe - my love


	3. A World on Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took forever to edit. Originally written back in 2012, it is strange to go back and look at your old work sometimes. To quote Gladiator, 'Are you not entertained?'. Hope so, this was fun to rework. -Fangorn

In the morning, Garrett was sent down to the storeroom to pick a new staff from the Tower's collection. The staves were made from numerous types of wood and metal, and a few of the more ostentatious ones even had dragonbone. Owain, the Tranquil mage who ran the storeroom, was able to help him narrow it down by finding the material that best suited his talents. As he had no interest in Entropy, grey iron could be eliminated. His lack of talent for Creation magic excluded red steel. In the end, they found something that was far more suited for the young enchanter than his generic oak apprentice staff. Garrett picked a staff with a core of Brecilian sylvanwood and couple bands of silverite. It was a harder wood that would stand up to the physical demands of primal magic. The more advanced spells required the caster to perform rigorous katas that had the entire upper body and pelvic region moving to channel the energies. The wielder often jabbed and struck the ground around him with his staff to bend the earth's natural forces to their will. Some of the Tevinter magisters were even rumored in to be capable of causing earth shakes and the mountains to tremble. Garrett wasn't nearly skilled or powerful enough to master such forces, but he did find a staff that would bolster his abilities. It had a gnarled end to hold a focus crystal Owain would order for him. With that he could conjure more powerful primal spells. If he had only one word to describe his new staff, it was awesome. He gave it a few fancy twirls, admiring the balance of this beautiful new piece. It was so much better than the one he had carried as an apprentice. With his new status symbol, it was clear to everyone else that he had climbed the ranks. It was certain to draw a few envious stares by the days end.

"New staff, or you just happy to see me?" Aeryn appeared at Garrett's side. Garrett had come down to the main floor to show her his new staff, but had gotten distracted when some of the younger apprentices started peppering him with questions about his Harrowing. He couldn't tell them anything as he was sworn to secrecy, but he did try to reassure some of the more nervous looking ones. One in particular, a fidgety pale young boy named Jowan, had been all but stuttering as he asked how the First Enchanter had known he was ready. He had tried to smile and just say 'he's the head of the Circle, of course he knows when you're ready'. The boy didn't look all that convinced, but dropped it. Poor kid was probably going to work himself into a terrified state all the way up until his own Harrowing came. Aeryn had found him then, surrounded by almost a dozen kids, and shooed the kids off to their lessons. She had looked so proud when she saw her friend's new robes and staff. She had known he would pass with flying colors.

"Can't it be both? Jealous yet?" Aeryn snorted.

"Boys and their staffs, you guys really can't think of anything else." They laughed and hugged, both riding the high of celebration.

"A most tragic curse. Could always be worse, we could be obsessed with blood, or blowing up the Chantry, or recreating the fabled wine of Arlathan. Actually, that last one might be a good idea." Aeryn swatted his arm, the highest part of him she could reach without climbing a stool. He really shouldn't talk about blood magic with Templars stationed in the library. Some of the more suspicious ones might think he was being serious! Still, silly Garrett, why couldn't he be this open with everyone else, Aeryn pondered as they walked along the book shelves. She thought he'd be the most popular mage in the Tower if he were this open with everyone. Well, give Anders a run for his sovereigns at least. Speaking of...

"So, they moved you up to your new quarters. Whose your new roommate?" She knew Garrett had been secretly wishing for it to be Anders, the poor idiot was hopelessly besotted with the older blonde. "Anyone cute?"

"Godwin. Least he's friendly, though I hear he has a freaky love of Orlesian chocolate. Should I be worried?" Aeryn knew him. He was only a little older than the two of them. Godwin was eighteen, and had just passed his Harrowing a year ago. He was also fairly quiet and kept mostly to himself. He could however be coaxed out of his shell with enough alcohol and be a reasonably fun guy. He had a few connections outside the Tower that would sometimes send him contraband, like brandy or Orlesian pastries. He would sometimes be able to get special items for people if they had managed to scrap together some silvers or had a vial of lyrium to trade. He was also freakishly flexible as he had once demonstrated by putting his ankle behind his head. Not that Aeryn had been paying attention, much.

"No, he's harmless. Just don't ask him to show you how flexible he is. He'll do it once he's had enough." Garrett raised an eyebrow, but didn't question it. When you were locked away in a Tower for life, you had to find ways to entertain yourself. This lead to the discovery of the wonders of alcohol and what it could bring out. Garrett himself rarely had more than a glass of wine or ale with meals, but sometimes he might take a sip or two from the flask Aeryn kept on her person. Though he had abstained since the last time when he had almost drunkenly kissed his crush. Instead of planting one on the blonde's lips, he had tripped over his own feet and fallen face down on the hard stone flood. He'd passed out and waken up with his head in Aeryn's lap as Anders used his healing magic to close his split lip and cure his aching head. It was so embarrassing that Garrett still turned a bit red whenever someone mentioned how cute he looked when he was drunk. Godwin would just have to drink for the both of them then. "I thought they might put you with Anders, Irving always talks about what a 'calming' influence you have on him." Irving had kept them under the same tutors for most of their education after noticing how close the boys were. They'd assumed when both had passed their final test they would probably share a room on the enchanters' floor. Seems Irving had changed his mind. The two decided that they'd let the matter go and focus on Aeryn's upcoming Harrowing.

"I suppose Irving has his reasons. And on the bright side, your Harrowing is coming soon. You'll be living up on the enchanter's floor with us! You passed your seventeenth nameday last month, it won't be long now I bet. Oh! You get a cool new staff too." The elf girl snorted and rolled her eyes at the human. Aeryn pulled out a tome on Creation magic, her strong suite. She had the potential to be a great healer. Magic that did not require a staff.

"Joy, oh lucky, lucky me." She said with as much sarcasm as she could muster and added another Creation tome to the stack she was carrying. "Just what every girl needs, a nice hard staff." At that moment the new Templar Ser Cullen walked by, his cheeks burning bright red, and made an almost indignant squeak as Aeryn realized he was staring. The poor boy practically sprinted off, leaving behind a blushing Aeryn and Garrett who was laughing so hard he almost fell over. This is another reason mages and Templar recruits did not mix, the Chantry had decided to eradicate the topic of sex from their education. Mages were very aware of such carnal acts and how ones goes about engaging in them. They were cloistered in Tower with little else to do other than study or make the beast with two backs. As a result, the mages could quite easily get under the skin of the relatively sheltered recruits. The look of a bashful Templar was always a good laugh for stressed apprentices.

~

Garrett was hiding in the one nooks in the Tower he knew no one else was aware off. He had found it in his first year of living in the Tower completely by accident. He had gotten lost and ended up in a dark storage closet. When he had put his hands on the wall to find his way out, he'd touched a pressure stone. The wall had slid away to reveal a small space just big enough for two people to crouch down in. It had probably been there since the original Avvar barbarians built the place. Though a hidey hole was probably not the intention his feral ancestors had in mind. He had come here often over the years when he wanted a quiet moment. When he had wanted to cry about losing his family, feeling alone, frustrated with classes, and as of this evening, a broken heart.

He had always known about Anders' flirtatious nature and the numerous flings. It wasn't like it was a secret or anything. Many of the young mages carried out numerous short lived affairs to alleviate the the sadness that came with knowing they could never marry or have a family. It sometimes resulted in broken hearts and in rare cases, children that were given away at birth to the Chantry. The fear of falling in love only to have it torn away was more than enough to deter most from developing anything beyond casual romps in the Tower closets. But for some reason, he felt that he could finally open up to the older boy about his feelings. Perhaps it was because he had faced the worst the Fade could toss his way and came out victorious. Whatever the motivation, Garrett had gathered the courage to talk to him about his feelings. He had spent most of the day psyching himself up, sneaking a bit of his new room mate's whiskey stash before seeking out the other mage. There were several places Anders might be at any given time, the library, the healing rooms, the indoor garden, or the enchanters' quarters. That is, if he wasn't attempting another one of his daring escapes. After spending about three hours searching the tower from top to bottom, he was ready to call it a night. He was tired and the last of the warmth from the whiskey had long left his system. Garrett was passing through the apprentices' quarters to the first level to see if Aeryn had decided to leave the dusty tomes behind long enough to grab some dinner when he heard something. He thought he heard giggling coming from one of the supply closets. It sounded like Aeryn. Was she off enjoying a bit of contraband? In his still tipsy mind he considered it a good idea to check on her. Garrett had quietly pushed open the door, just in case he was wrong and instantly regretted it.

He had found Aeryn, but she wasn't alone. Her and Anders. By the lack of clothes and the moans it was clear what they were doing. A part of him had wanted to scream or throw a punch, but the feeling of his guts dropping out stopped him from doing either. Instead, he had shut the door again, quietly as possible, and headed off to his hidey hole. He wanted to be alone. Away from those two, especially Aeryn. That traitorous bitch! And Anders, had that kiss meant nothing?

He had been on the edge of dreams when he had felt the older mage press his lips to his temple. A soft, sweet gesture that did not belong between two people who were 'just friends'. And those words, 'miene liebe', Garrett could only speak a few words of Anders' native tongue, but he knew the word for friend 'beglieter' and brother 'bruder'. It sounded closer to a different word he had heard the elder say once or twice 'lieben' when he mentioned the mother he had left behind. A word of devotion that was beyond friendship. Or so Garrett had always thought. Was he to nothing but a fling to be tossed aside? This wrung another sob from him. Garrett had never been so alone in all his life.

"Maker's bloody balls." He snarled, punching the wall with a small bit of force magic. It left a first shaped dent in the wall. Better the wall suffer than something soft and fleshy. He might want to give them both a good wringing, but he'd never forgive himself if he actually hurt them.

Garrett would have to face them eventually. He would have to put on the facade he wore for everyone else. At least until he found a way to escape the Tower. Then he could put this life behind him. Put the traitors behind him. Until then he would play the part of friend and companion, all the while wanting to vomit from the lie.

He straightened up and adjusted his robes. He was done with weeping over lost causes. Garrett wiped at his cheeks, removing the evidence of his tears. Taking a deep breath he plastered on a smile and headed down to the library.

There he found Aeryn once again at the tables, her pile of Creation books barely touched. She had been too distracted earlier. She looked up at him and smiled.

"Hey, I was looking for you earlier. Can you help me with some stuff?" Hawke bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from calling her on the lie. Instead he sat down beside her and opened another book.

"Sure, what are friends for?"

~

"Something's wrong with Garrett," Anders glanced up from the Antivan romance he was reading. Aeryn had asked him earlier to quiz her on a few of the finer points of spirit magic and the blonde was happy to assist since it got him out of having to help Senior Enchanter Wynne with her beginners healing class. He did love being able to show off his talents, but most of the time he was there just to make sure the kids didn't pass out from using too much energy. It didn't help that Wynne didn't seem to like him. She found his glib nature to be annoying and had yet to forgive him for the 'crazy old lady' comment. She adored Garrett though as the younger boy was always polite and had this shy smile that could melt even the grouchiest Revered Mother' hearts. If he could help it, he would try to drag Garrett along with him to stop Wynne's scowling. She would always smile at Garrett and even in some moments, border on maternal. From what Garrett told him in confidence later, Wynne had a son around Garrett's age and seeing the sweet young man seemed to remind of her of the baby she had given up. He hadn't been able to find the other mage earlier to help soften Wynne's frown, so he was happy to have a semi-valid excuse to get out of helping her. Though, now that he thought about it, the younger boy had been a bit distant lately. "I just know it." Aeryn was fidgeting in her seat, "Something's bothering him."

"Really? He seemed fine to me when I saw him this morning." Garrett had been talking with his room mate earlier that day in the dining hall. The two had been speaking in quick, hushed words that probably had the Templar on duty feeling edgy. Garrett had passed him something that could have been a vial, but it was hard to tell because it was covered by a napkin. Godwin had pocketed it and left the hall shortly after. It wasn't too unusual, as Godwin often procured things outside the Tower for the other mages if coin or lyrium could be provided. Garrett hadn't stuck around either, setting aside a still half full bowl of porridge and getting to his feet just as Anders was about to take a seat across from him. Garrett had barely nodded in acknowledgement before heading off to his morning lecture. He had a thick, leather bound tome that was so old some of the ink on the title had begun to peel off. He muttered something about Niall threatening to have him teach a first years class if he was late and even shuddered a bit as he said it. It was a duty that no young enchanter liked as it tended to result in burnt hair. He had simply assumed that Garrett was a bit tired from his classes and let it go. But Aeryn could be right, he had been a bit odd lately. Anders shut the book, the adventures of a suave (though not nearly as handsome as the mage reading his story) Antivan assassin set aside for later. "Did he say something?"

"Not a word. But I know something's wrong. He's been so distracted the last few weeks." It was true, Garrett seemed to be so busy these days. He was furthering his education of force magic under Enchanter Niall and helping with the older man's classes. When he wasn't with Niall he was in the store room helping Owain. Garrett wasn't the lazy type to begin with, but he was running himself ragged with all this new work. "I barely see him anymore."

"Well, he is trying to become a Force mage. Takes lots of dedication." Anders tried to downplay the situation, but he was also worried about Garrett. The mage had become a ghost in recent weeks. He wasn't even coming to meals on a regular basis anymore. When he was actually seen outside his classes or the store room, he was often in the company of Niall, peppering his mentor on the finer points of the primal school of magic, or what appeared to be conspiring with Godwin. He would stop and smile when Aeryn or Anders attempted to have a moment of his time, but he tended to brush them off and apologize for being so busy. He'd promise to talk later, but he never did. "Besides, if there was a problem I'm sure Godwin or Niall would say something."

"Maybe" she sighed, "but they don't know him like we do. If he's having a problem, he'll bottle it up until he explodes." And with all the force magic Niall was teaching him it could be one hell of an explosion. Setting her things aside Aeryn stood up, "I'm going to go find him."

"Want some help?" It didn't take them very long to find him. He was sitting with Niall and another new enchanter Kieran in one of the small study rooms that was set apart from the main library. They had filled the two chalk boards with equations and diagrams on various defensive spells such as rock armor. Niall was reading from a very dusty tome that had a title written in Arcanium, indicating it's Tevinter origin. The two younger mages were taking notes as their mentor read and added to the boards. The three looked like they had been in deep discussion and not a little annoyed that they were interrupted.

"Apprentice Surana, Enchanter Anders, do you need something?" Niall shut his book, a little dust coming from the old pages as he did so. Garrett glanced up from the table, but turned away just as quickly. "Otherwise, we're in the middle of a lecture. Your business can surely wait."

"Sorry sir, we'll go." Aeryn apologized, preventing Anders from getting in a sharp comeback. "Garrett, later?"

"Ok." He was barely loud enough for them to catch, and didn't even turn around. It seemed that Aeryn was right, something was wrong with Garrett.

~

After Niall's lecture and a visit to the store room to pick up the focusing crystal Owain had finally received for him, Garrett headed back to his room. He didn't feel like putting a fake face on right now. He had tried to put on a smile for everyone, but it was killing him little by little. It chipped away at  If he kept this up, he would go insane. Maybe turn into an abomination. Maker that might actually be a relief.

He was glad to find his room empty. His room mate Godwin was supposed to be checking on a few things and return later. The lyrium that Garrett had managed to get for him was integral to a deal Godwin had promised to facilitate for him. Until he returned, he would close his eyes and rest for a bit. Garrett collapsed on the narrow bed and buried his face into his pillow. Oh, Maker, his aching head. He considered walking down to the dining hall to grab a bite to eat, but his fatigue won out. He'd probably fall asleep on the stairs if he tried to make it down. The young mage was almost sleep when the door creaked open.

"Garrett?" Aeryn. Damn. One of the people he just couldn't deal with right now. He didn't respond, only clutching his pillow tighter. "I know you're awake. You can't sleep on your stomach." She sat down on the bed next to him. Aeryn reached out to pet his hair, but he swatted her hand away. "What's wrong?" Her ignorance only served to stoke the frustration boiling away inside him.

"Go. Away. Now. Please." His words were slightly muffled, but his irritation was clear.

"Garrett!" She snapped, "don't be so rude. I'm only trying to help." That was the straw the broke the camel's back. He shot up like a Templar on lyrium overdose, shoving her from the bed. She landed on her backside with a thud. "What the hell?"

"You want to help? You really want to help!" He stood up, grabbed her by the wrist and forced Aeryn to her feet. With an iron grip he dragged her to the door, the elf struggling the whole way. "Then never talk to me again. I don't want to see either of you again!" Garrett all but tossed her out and slammed the door. He pulled the deadbolt and returned to his bed. He could hear Aeryn pounding on his door, demanding an explanation. "It's for the best" he whispered as he leaned over, cradling his head, "it's for the best."

He waited until the banging stopped and he couldn't hear her trying to speak through the door before he undid the bolt. Garrett didn't leave the room though, instead sitting on the stone floor beside his bed as he set his new focus crystal into the slot of his staff. The perfectly round cloudy orb glowed a soft gray as he sent a small bit of his magic into it. He glanced up when he heard the door open. Godwin was back and he had a small leather bag in hand.

"You have it?" Garrett stood up and looked eagerly at the bag. Godwin smiled and opened it, pulling out a small vial full of blood.

"I believe this is yours," Garrett took it gingerly from Godwin, rolling the glass container in his hand. The blood, taken so many years ago, had yet to congeal.

"Maker, I never thought I'd see this again. How did you manage it?"

"Turns out there's not much some Templars won't do for their drug of choice." Godwin said with a wave of his hand. When Garrett had started helping Owain out at the store room he had noticed that all the Tower's lyrium, for Templars and mages, went through there before it was distributed. He had mentioned it in passing to Godwin and the older boy's eyes had lit up with the possibilities of what he could do if he could get his hands on a few vials of the shipment. With a few interesting, yet practical applications of primal magic, Garrett was able to hide one of the shipments in the tunnels where the lyrium was stored. It was quite funny to watch the Templars scour the tunnels from end to end, never finding the shipment that was just under their noses. Garrett had extracted a handful of vials that Godwin was able to use to make the needed bribes to get his phylactery. Garrett had decided not to ask how, only wait for the results.

"You could probably escape too," Garrett pointed out, "I still have a few vials you could use to get your phylactery."

"Maybe," Godwin shrugged, "but I don't have anyone waiting for me on the outside. Don't know what I'd even do if I escaped."

"I guess farmer is out of the question?" Godwin wrinkled his nose at the idea of spending the rest of his life squatting in the dirt. He liked his robes not smelling of manure.

"You can go play in the dirt to your heart's content, just leave me out of it." Garrett grabbed a small sack he had stashed under his cot. It held a few days worth of food and a water bottle with a change of clothes. He had a contact in the Mage's Collective waiting for him on shore of Lake Calenhad that was waiting for him to come that night. "You better hurry, the dinner hour is the only time there aren't Templars at every corner."

"Right," Garrett nodded, "thanks for everything."

"Just try not to get caught," Godwin said as Garrett left their room for the last time, "Maker watch over you." The younger mage stole away down the stairs to the storage closet he had previously used as a hiding spot. In recent weeks, he had found that there was an additional passage that led out under the Tower and all the way out to the opposite shore of Lake Calenhad. The Avvars had likely used it in times of siege to bring in supplies and let people escape. He had covered the entire tunnel one night to see if it was still intact. The roof had started to collapse in some spots, lake water spilling in at places and the dirt floor had turned to mud. Without looking back, Garrett opened the secret passage and descended down into the darkness.

~

Aeryn sat numbly in the library, Garrett's voice still ringing in her ears. She'd seen him angry, but this was something beyond anger. This was raw fury. The type that made even the darkest of rage demons tremble. He must have seen them. There was no other reason for him to be so angry. Oh by the Maker, what had she done? Why had she allowed this to happen?

She had been busy studying the many, many tomes of Creation magic that the library offered when the elder mage had plopped down at her bench. He had shut her book and said she was going to make herself burst into flames if she didn't stop stressing herself. Aeryn had asked him, jokingly of course, what exactly he had in mind. Anders had given her a roguish wink and indicated for her to follow him. They'd found an unoccupied storage closet and made use of it. A sweet, delicious hour of stress relief that left both parties in a better mood.

Was it so wrong? Yes her friend Garrett was mooning over the gorgeous creature, but he was too shy to make a move. At any rate he'd likely just assume this was part of Anders' already well known flirty nature. There was no way he'd hold it against them if he found out. But from the way he had lashed out at her, she realized how wrong she had been. He had made it very clear he wanted nothing to do with either of them again. The pain and anger had been so fresh in those eyes, it made Aeryn's well up as she recalled them. Her chest tightened at the realization of what she had done to her dearest companion. They had broken him in a way no Templar ever could.

Resolving to tell Anders the truth about everything, including Garrett's previous infatuation, Aeryn sought out the older boy in the main floor. He had been watching the lake shore from one of the window seats near the entry hall when she found him. The Tower mouser, a fat yellow tabby with a nasty tempter towards all accept the blonde, was perched on his lap as he stroked it's pointed chin. When he saw how pale she was and the slight tremble in her hands, he knew that things were bad. When she confessed verything, Anders had almost fell off the seat and flat on his backside as she told him about Garrett's feeling for him. He'd always assumed there was nothing but friendship between them. Sure, Garrett could sometimes be a second shadow, but he thought it was due to the fact that they had spent so many years locked up together. He had always thought Garrett liked girls since he had mooned over a lovely brunette named Deidre when he was 12. The girl was a few years older and had always given the younger boy such a sweet smile when he would stammer out a hello. The younger boy had been so heart broken when she was sent to the Orlesian Circle to train with another Enchanter. He had wept and even clung to Anders as he fully realized what it meant to be a mage in the Circle. No family, no children, nothing but yourself and what you could hold on to until the Templars took that too. After that, Garrett had become adamant about how important Anders and Aeryn were to him. He couldn't lose what family he had left. And that was what they had become, their own, slightly off kilter family. Though that likely no longer existed as long as Garrett remained angry at the two of them. He felt like an idiot, worse, he felt like a Templar! He'd hurt the person he loved with such ease it was scary.

He had considered searching out the younger mage to beg his forgiveness, but from what Aeryn said it would probably only make him angrier. They would give him all the space he wanted for now. They would need to talk, to finally be honest with each other and to slowly mend the fence. After all they all had to live together in this Maker forsaken prison, they might as well get along. Anders had kept that one grain of wisdom Irving had imparted in mind as he considered the situation with Aeryn and Garrett.

What had happened between him and Aeryn could never happen again. It had been fun yes, but it was nothing compared to what he wanted with his dark haired mage love. Aeryn would understand, she knew that what had been between them was nothing but an outlet for all the stress and tension of tower life. She herself had feelings for another, a Templar, even if she never planned to act on them. Though she might have mentioned that she and Garrett were not and had never been a couple before all this began. A dark part of him had hoped to make her want to leave Garrett so that he could make a move at long last. The rest of him had paid the cost for such a mistake. Aeryn was near inconsolable about losing her friend to her own stupidity and base desires. One little (though previously repeated) mistake had cost her so much. It made her already bad moods terrifying.

We will fix this, Anders promised her over and over, we will make this right.

~

"Have you seen my apprentice?" Anders turned from his pile of health potion ingredients to find Niall impatiently fidgeting at the door way to the healing rooms.

"Which one?"

"Garrett of course, the one that you and the elf girl are practically attached too" Anders flinched, that was no longer the most accurate description of the relationship between the three. "He was supposed to be helping my force magic class today and I can't find him."

"Did you ask Godwin? They room together." That and those two had been thick as thieves the last few weeks. He couldn't be sure, but Anders thought they might be planning something together. Anders wasn't particularly fond of the other mage, but Godwin did have quite the impressive smuggling network.

"Yes, yes" Niall started pacing, "he hasn't seen him since dinner yesterday. He suggested I ask Owain first, but he hasn't seen him either. So have you or not?"

"Sorry, can't help you. Though I'm sure you have several other students capable of doing the job." Niall shook his head and took a seat across from Anders.

"I'm not worried that I haven't seen him. I'm worried that nobody has seen him." Anders set aside the herbs he had been working with, finally catching onto the situation.

"You think he escaped? Garrett? Irving's prize pupil?" Unlike Anders, Garrett had never attempted to escape before. He had resisted tower life initially, but had come to love the order and quiet that came with it. If anyone wasn't going to run to the hills it was Garrett. Still, if no one could find him, and it had been a day...

"That's what worries me. Much longer and I'll have to speak to Greagoir, and you know he hasn't been in the greatest of moods lately with the botched lyrium shipment."

"What botched lyrium shipment?" Niall explained that a couple weeks back a shipment of lyrium had gone missing from the store room and no one had known what had happened. The Templars had started to go into withdrawal and the mages had given them wide berth to avoid an unneccesary smiting. Then, as if by magic, the lyrium reappeared two weeks later with only a few vials of the singing liquid gone. Overall the few missing vials were dismissed and the Templars returned to their normal grouchy selves. Still, it was odd for these two events to happen so close to each other.

"You don't think...did Owain give anyone else a key to the store room?" Niall's eyes widened considerably. Had Garrett been behind the missing lyrium? And the missing vials, were they a bribe for passage out of the Tower? Or worse, were they a bribe for something more valuable, his phylactery.

"I have to speak with the Knight-Commander at once" Niall hurried out and up to the Templar Quarters to alert Irving of a possible apostate without a phylactery.

A thorough search of the repository found no trace of Garrett's phylactery. Anders and Niall had been right in their suspicions, though only Anders applauded the young mage's audacity to bribe a Templar. He must have disappeared during the night through some secret passage or other, though the Templars could find no evidence of any such thing. When Anders did attempt to question Godwin if he had any part in it the other mage just shrugged and feigned ignorance of anything. A part of the blonde angry that Garrett would just run off without a word, but he was also impressed. Garrett had managed to get away and stay escaped on his first try. His phylactery had yet to be shipped to Denerim with the other enchanters' vials, providing him a short window of opportunity that he had taken full advantage off. It also led to additional measures being taken on the repository so that it would not happen again. The escape was the talk of the Tower for months after, all wanting to contribute something of their own to the story. By the end, one might be told that Garrett had fought an army of Templars bare handed with a number of mages at his back crying for freedom. It was only those who truly knew him that mourned his absence and the gaping hole it left in their hearts.

9:30 Dragon (8 years later) - Lothering

Lothering was on fire.

Anders had finally tracked down a lead on Garrett's location the last time he had escaped. A contact in the Mage's Collective remembered the young man from many years earlier. He had escorted Garrett to Lothering where his family had resettled after he was taken the Tower. Garrett's Father, simply called 'Fox' by his fellow free mages, was an off and on member of the Collective before passing away several years earlier and his son, who went by the alias 'Black Staff' when carrying out tasks for them, had taken up his place. The Collective refused to give out real names as they were a rightly paranoid bunch. They did however give a location after Anders had slipped them adequate coin and lyrium. They had taken him to his family after being assured he would not be tracked down by mage hunters. When they had seen his phylactery, they had been impressed. Mages could escape from their Tower jail with some amount of creativity, but their phylactery in the hands of the Templars made a prolonged escape nearly impossible. Garrett had somehow managed to circumvent the problem and had been free for nearly ten years. Even if he did have to look over his shoulders whenever he was near a Chantry, he had achieved the dream of so many mages. It made Anders proud and determined to do the same.

Despite the Circle still holding his phylactery, Anders had made the rash, hare-brained decision to see him during his escape. Probably not the smartest idea, as there was always the chance one of the Templars just might recognize the apostate. But he wasn't thinking clearly when he decided to see Garrett. There had been a sense of desperation when he had gone. Aeryn had been sent away from the Tower and the Templars had been cracking down on a number of rules. None of the mages, even Irving, had been allowed to leave the Tower for over a year. He had to see that darling face just one more time if he were to hold on to any shred of hope. However, the mage had been caught a day away from Lothering. It earned him a month in solitude, but his resolve to get free again and find Garrett kept him strong. He had been so close, so very close that he couldn't just give up. When the month long confinement over Anders quickly escaped again. While traveling from Lake Calenhad he heard about the fall of Ostagar and the death of good King Cailan. Some people blamed the Grey Wardens, but Anders put no stock in such gossip. He had read a lot about the legendary order in the Tower library and they were always decribed as an honorable people. But, no matter, he had other things on his mind.

~

The smoke was rising high in the sky, clearly seen from miles away. The town was burning. The darkspawn horde had moved north from ruins up the highway and overrun the hamlet. On first glance there didn't appear to be any survivors. Anders had wandered through the smoking remains of the town, smoking embers flying up as he moved through. There was the smell of burning flesh and ash was thick, choking. He wished now that he had listened to the people at the inn on Lake Calenhad. The darkspawn were overtaking the land and he was walking right into the horde's path. Still, he couldn't just walk away. What if Garrett was still there, still alive and needed help?

"Dead. All dead." a balding old man came through the smoke, "the darkspawn...they came in the darkness." He sat down on the ground, rocking. "Spiders.."

"Hey..." Anders placed a hand on his shoulder, sending a warm tendril of healing energy into him. Benefits of magic healing, it could heal the mind and body. "It's over. Were there any other survivors? Maybe a guy named Garrett? You know Garrett, dark hair and eyes, bit broody, but pulls it off?" Barlin, the old man, shook his head and stared at the ground.

"Yea, Malcolm's boy. Haven't seen him in a couple days. He's on one of the outlying farms. They got hit first." Anders felt his stomach drop. Garrett, was he dead? He couldn't be dead. Garrett was a strong mage with a powerful background in primal magic. He could fight off darkspawn. Surely, Garrett would fight and survive. Anders knelt down next to Barlin.

"Look at me" he hissed, "where is the farm? I have to find him."

"That way" Barlin pointed eastward, "can't miss them. Hope you find your friend."

The smoke was worse outside the town. The darkspawn had burned the fields and barns leaving nothing behind for survivors to eat with winter coming fast. To be felled by darkspawn steel or die slowly of starvation, hard to decide which was the better option. Anders did not allow himself to dwell to long on such dark thoughts. Pessimism was never productive. He kept moving. Even outside the village, the darkspawn had destroyed everything they could get heir claws on. There wasn't a single sign of life in sight, and no sound beyond the occasional creak of burnt wood.

"Garrett!" He shouted again and again, but no one replied. Not even the wind was blowing. The blight had sucked all life from the land, blackening it just as the ancient magisters had tarnished the Golden City. "For Andraste's sake! Anyone out there?" Anders knew he had reached the far end of the outlands when the landscape gave way to hills and forest. There were a few smoking remnants of farmhouses and barns, but no people that he could hear or see. They had either fled or been killed. He circled back, checking every ruined structure. Some had charred bodies inside, human and animal, others were abandoned. He hadn't checked any of the bodies closely, he couldn't bear it if he found Garrett among them. More and more bodies appeared as he continued his search, some clearly children by their small size. Most heartbreaking, the curled and crisped figure of a woman wrapping her self around a child as the flames had taken them. As far as he could tell, there was no way he could have survived this attack, why force the reality on himself harder with a burnt corpse?

Anders left the village behind, heading up the King's Highway to the capital city of Denerim. The world was ending, so he might as well go out and have a good time before the lights went off. He spent a few debauched nights in the Pearl giving into vice as a way to shut out grief. It helped there was a lovely pirate who was more than willing to help him forget. Let Isabela kiss you all better, she had said as they tumbled on soft faded red sheets. She had kissed him well, but not all better. He couldn't fault her on that. He just smiled and kissed her back, wishing it was another's lips beneath his. The Templars caught up with him shortly after that and dragged him back to the Circle. Greagoir had decided to put him in solitary for a year. The old bear ended up saving his life when Uldred's abominations took over the tower. When the Templars did release him they found him curled up in the corner of the cell, dirty and thin. A year of solitude had nearly broken him in body and mind. As they hauled him to his feet he continued to murmer the same litany he had been crying when first confined.

Es tut mi leid meine liebe

Ich konnte dich nicht retten aus der dunkelheit

Jetzt bin ich nichts, so lange wie wir sind auseinander

Eines Tages werde ich dir in der nacht beitreten

Bis dahin warte auf mich

If any of his jailors could speak the tongue of the cold Anderfels lowlands, his words would break even their stony hearts. Alas, it was nothing but jibberwacky to them.

Translation:

(I am sorry my love. I could not save you from the darkness. Now I am nothing so long as we are apart. One day I will join you the night. Until then wait for me.)

(Denerim - two weeks after the death of Good King Cailan)

Hawke, as he now went by, worked on the docks to pay for passage to Kirkwall. The witch, or whatever she rally was, Flemeth had given them safe passage on the King's highway, but now they were on their own. Carver's pay as a recruit hadn't been much and run out when they needed to gather supplies on the road. Without any money they were unable to board a ship. So, they had all tried to find paying work. Carver was working with their new friend Aveline as an extension of the city guard. The influx of refugees had required a larger force than previously expected and the captain had been all too happy for their help. He had even looked the other way on their military records so that they wouldn't get brought in for treason. Bethany was assisting a healer in the market as her skill in healing magic was always better than Garrett's. Garrett had taken the dock job so that he wouldn't stick out and attract unnecessary attention from the Cathedral Templars. So far, it had worked. He had heard that an apostate had been captured only a few days ago in the Pearl. Garrett couldn't help but admire the stupidity some mages showed. Brothel girls always opened two things, their legs and their mouths. Needless to say, the later didn't work so well when they were eager to make some quick coin with the Templars who visited them.

The long day was over, he counted his coin. He had managed to make a solid sovereign this week. It was barely enough to pay for a short trip to Amaranthine let alone Kirkwall. Perhaps Aveline and Carver had managed to do a bit better. If not, they were going to be stuck here quite a while. That could be a problem if the archdemon decided to attack a major city. The options in Fereldan were pretty limited, Redcliffe, Denerim, Highever and Amaranthine. If darkspawn were to overrun the city there would be no way out.


	4. Follow You Into the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revamped Chapter inspired by DCFC 'I'll Follow You into the Dark', suggested that you have listen while reading this chapter. Our heroes survive the Blight in varying ways. Hoping you guys are loving it, as this is truly a labor of love. My poor OTP, they really got the short end of the stick in canon. As always, comments, kudos, and subscriptions welcome. Thanks for your consideration and those who gave dedication.
> 
> For Dearest C, most beloved friend and confident. Come home safe my dear, we love you when you're here and on the far side of the world. - Fangorn (Sug')

(9:31 Dragon Age)

The darkspawn were swarming the Vigil and Anders was, as usual, in the wrong place at the wrong time. He'd made one last escape attempt after Irving had sent off the mages to the battle of Denerim to fight the Archdemon. In the chaos, no one noticed one missing mage. He had been staying near Highever while trying to locate his phylactery. The Circle had moved the Circle’s cache from it’s Denerim location once the city was no longer considered a safe haven. He had met a smuggler in his last escape that had promised to look into the matter for him and instructed him to stay low until she found anything. Word had come from Amaranthine that she might know something and he had been headed that way when the Templars finally caught him. Though their numbers were reduced by the Uldred and his disciples, those that remained were just as dedicated, if not more so than before, to fulfill the holy duty of catching apostates. He thanked the Maker that Aeryn had been sent to the Tower in Starkhaven several years back. At least she did not have to worry about the Blight and see the terrible state her friend had been reduced to after his time in solitary.

  
In truth, Anders hadn't been in any condition to the leave the Tower, but with a number of Templars gone to keep an eye on their travelling mage charges it had been the perfect opportunity to escape. A year in solitary had been hard on him. He had lost a large amount of weight because he had all but stopped eating in the last two months. When he had begun to refuse food for days at a time, two of the Templars threw open the door to his cell and forced fed him. One man held him down and kept his mouth open as another poured bland broth down his throat. He had tried to resist and spit it up, but they pinched his nose until he had swallowed. You want to die mage? One of the Templars taunted before giving him a solid kick to the ribs, you don’t get to die unless we say so. Yes, there was a part that wanted it to be over, to just close his eyes and wake up at the Maker’s side. Would Garrett be waiting there for him if he perished in this dark, dank hole?

  
Time slipped by at the pass of a glacier in his cell. He began to sleep more and more as his energy drained from malnutrition. Thankfully, it was often an empty and dreamless oblivion that greeted him once his eyes slid close. He didn’t have the strength to deal with demons in tempting him in dreams. There were the rare, pleasant dreams that he looked forward to more and more as time trickled away. In those ones, Garrett was still alive. He looked older in those dreams, his smooth cheeks now sporting stubble and the beginnings of a beard along his jawline. He seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders and had what might have been a hint of sorrow in those beautiful blue eyes. They never really spoke to each other in the dreams, though they often ended up holding each other tight before it ended. He would then wake to his empty cold cell and long for that warm embrace. On the last night he had those dreams, his heart broke to find Garrett so full of sadness and fear.

  
“Anders,” he said with a sad smile, as if he were the dead one and not Garrett, “I’m lost and I don’t know what to do. The darkspawn have taken everything and I can’t get away. I’m broken. What do I do?” When he looked again, Anders could see Garrett’s body was covered in blood, his clothes completely soaked with the oozing red fluid. He couldn’t see the source of the wounds, but it looked like something had tossed him around and slammed him into as many hard surfaces as possible. The young man was lying on his side, clearly in agony from the wounds. Tears prickled at the eyes of both his dreamself and sleeping body.

  
“Oh my dear one,” Anders choked out, leaning over the broken form and pressing his face into Garrett’s neck, inhaling the scent of sweat and dried blood, “let me fix this. Let me fix you, please.”

  
“It hurts,” Garrett whimpered as another wave of pain hit him, “my back, it’s broken. I can’t…damnit….” The dark haired man sobbed as a spasm traveled up his spine, “I don’t want to die.”

  
“Shush, miene liebe, save your strength,” Anders ran a hand through sweat drenched hair, “I’ll save you. I won’t let you…” die? No, that was stupid, Garrett was dead and this was just a dream, “I won’t let you hurt anymore.”

  
“Anders…I,” Garrett gulped at the air as he tried to fill his lungs even through the pain, “I’m sorry. I should…no…I…it’s cold here. So cold… don’t…please…” he rambled on and began to lose coherency, begging for the pain to stop, for his mother, for the Maker himself. His eyes were closing as Anders watched the life going out of him.

  
“No,” the blonde growled, “you don’t get to die. Not this time, not when I’m here.” He kissed those pale lips. He sent his healing magic into the other man through the kiss, warmth slowly pooling back in Garrett’s still face. “Come on, come on,” he begged against the other’s unmoving lips, “don’t go. Please, don’t leave me again.” He cradled the other man’s face, “I need you sweetheart, please breath. Please!” He was screaming now, as he tried to coax the other back to life. Finally, after the most terrifying few minutes of his life passed, Garrett started to breath again and opened his eyes. “That’s it, Garrett. My darling, my sweetheart, stay with me.”

  
“Sweetheart?” Garrett said, his voice shaking a bit, “please don’t lie to me, I know it’s just a game.”

  
“Garrett, no, I lo,” the dream began to evaporate around him and Garrett vanished before his eyes. Anders awoke to the lying on the stone floor and realized that he had been crying. He wanted to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t. He had slept too long already and his body refused to let him sink back into nothing. “I love you,” he said to no one, “I love you, Maker, Garrett, why did you leave me?” Anders’ shook with unhappy moans, “come back, please liebe, don’t leave me! I love you. Please…” But there were no more dreams of Garrett. The dream mage had vanished into the night just like his counterpart. When he was finally released a few weeks later, he was a quiet shadow of the person he had been. He was so weak that he had to be carried out by a pair of Templars and kept in the healing rooms while he recovered. No one thought he was even well enough to climb the Tower stairs let alone swim across Lake Calenhad. But sheer willpower urged him up and out the Tower once more.

  
~ (9:30) Denerim

  
Garrett woke up in a one of the healing wards near the Cathedral. His Mother was sitting on the floor beside his cot, her head bent in prayer as he slowly opened his eyes. “Mama,” he managed to say through cracked lips and a dry tongue, “Mama.” Leandra’s head jerked up when she heard her baby call for her. He hadn’t called her that since he was three. Her hand covered her mouth as she began crying and sobbing with relief.

  
“Oh baby, my baby boy,” she cried and stroked his cheek, pressing a kiss to his forehead and gently touching his hands, “you’re alive. Thank the Maker, you’re alive.” She called for her daughter to come and bring some water for Garrett. Garrett could barely move his arms and his legs barely twitched despite all the effort he put in to bending them. “Do you remember what happened darling?” Leandra asked as she readjusted the blanket that was draped over his waist.

  
“The docks, they were lifting a couple of cannons for Fort Drakon from a ship,” Garrett struggled to recall the exact sequence of events. His brain was still muddled from medicine and his long sleep. “There was a rope, it snapped and…” one of the pulley ropes had broken, causing the load to unbalance. The dock workers had tried to compensate and hold on, but more of the ropes kept snapping. Garrett had been trying to hold on when he saw a small boy walking right beneath the cannons. He watched in horror as the last of the ropes began to unravel and the child looked up in terror. The boy had screamed as one of the cannons began to fall. Without thinking, Garrett had dropped his rope and dashed forward to help the child. He had pushed the child out of the way, but was not able to get himself out of harms way. The last thing he remembered was the sound of his bones breaking as everything exploded in pain and went dark. “The boy?”

  
“Safe, not even a scratch,” Leandra assured her son, “when they freed you from the rubble, they were certain you were gone.” Leandra dabbed her eyes before she could continue, “you were so still and there was so much blood. They were ready to declare you dead, but you started crying and breathing.” Garrett remembered, dimly, that he had drifted into the Fade when he had been struck. He had been so scared, then his dreams conjured up Anders. The blonde had comforted him, held him close even as the world dimmed around him. He had been drifting away even in his dreams when the spark of life was rekindled back inside him. Anders had been pleading with him to live, to keep breathing. His dying brain had imagined his first love kissing him and calling him back. It had been nice actually, he had always wondered what those lips might have felt like against his. Then, his mind went too far, having dream Anders whisper sweet nothings to him. He had been so mad at his brain for tricking him and had wanted to wake up then. The dream Anders had looked so sad when he had refuted the lie.

  
“How long?” His mother helped him drink more water before answering.

  
“You’ve been asleep for almost a week darling.” She brushed his hair from his brow, “I was beginning to fear you’d never wake up.”

  
“Here now,” Garrett tried to smile, but he felt so weak. He wanted to close his eyes and drift back off, but he had slept too much already. His mabari, a furry beast the size of a small horse, whined and licked his master’s face. The dog had barely left his side as he lay unconscious and had kept away any that might try to rob the sleeping man or his family. “Good boy,” he grunted as the thick, drooly tongue trailed over his chin, “your breath stinks. Eating that crazy Chantry sister’s cooking again? Did she tell you about the peas of the Maker yet?” The dog barked in agreement. His mother sighed as she watched her eldest. He was conversing with the dog like it was a person again. Mabari were very smart, there was no question about that, but their brains weren’t much bigger than the average dog’s.

  
“You should rest dearest,” Leandra said, tucking the thin blanket around him, “we managed to finally make enough money to board a ship to Kirkwall. We’ll leave in two days.”

“Yes Mother,” Garrett felt relieved, they were soon leaving this place and going somewhere the Blight had yet to touch. He didn’t have the time to fully recover before they left though and he worried how an already overcrowded city in the Freemarches would react to seeing a refugee with a broken back. It might be all they needed to deny them entry. They would have to find a healer to fix him up enough so he could walk.

  
“Oh, one more thing” Leandra recalled something just as he had begun to fall asleep again, “the dock workers who brought you in said you were calling someone’s name when they pulled you from the rubble. Who’s Wilhelm?” Garrett felt a hard tug at his heart. He had been calling for Anders?

  
“No idea,” he lied, hoping his mother would just drop it. He kept his eyes closed so she couldn’t see the tears that were beginning to form. “I’m tired, talk later?”

  
“Of course, rest up dearest.” His mabari gave him one last kiss before laying back down beside his cot, snuffling happily when Leandra gave him a scratch behind the ears. Garrett’s consciousness slid back into the murky depths of dreams. He dreamed of a dark place, cold and damp with the smell of mildew. There was someone crying in the dark, he could hear the wet sobs that escaped their chests and the pleading not to be left behind. Garrett tried to reach out, to comfort the voice, but felt exhaustion drag him away before he could do anything.

  
~

  
Having to abandon Denerim in favor of a less darkspawn filled place, it was a longer journey that Anders’ still weak body may not have been entirely up to. Truth be told, it was only by sheer stubbornness he made it to the border of Arl Howe's lands. He'd collapsed near an outpost and been discovered by a patrol who recognized his robes. His plans to get to Amaranthine were thwarted. The bastards had locked him up in the dungeon of Vigil's Keep and called for the Amaranthine Chantry to send their Templars. The darkspawn had come up from the Deep Roads under the Keep not long after their arrival and everything went south in a second.

  
The Templars had been slaughtered by the beasts and Anders had refused to aid them. He hated them. He wanted to watch those monsters rend the flesh from their bones. It was justice for all those beatings, the confinement, and taking away his friends to be made Tranquil or killed if they failed the Harrowing. His Garrett would be horrified of such malevolent thoughts, he knew, but that shining light of his existence had been extinguished by those same monsters that now feasted on Templar meat. He might have died too if not for the timely arrival of his champion.

  
The Warden Commander, Scion of the Cousland line, had shown up in a blaze of glory and blood, a recruit trailing him and babbling about how he was an evil apostate. The Commander had only raised an eyebrow.

  
"Oh yes Mhairi, he's clearly evil, just look at all the darkspawn he roasted." He knew then he liked the Hero of Ferelden. Aedan Cousland. The young nobleman who had united the land and slain the Archdemon, turned out to be his savior. Well, him and the King of Ferelden to a slightly lesser degree. Rylock had been ready to drag him off to execution, thinking that he had personally killed the Templars who had been sent to bring him back to the Circle. It didn’t matter that evidence was not in her favor, she simply wanted revenge on the apostate. Commander Cousland prevented his early death by changing his life forever. The Rite of Conscription was enacted and Anders ceased to be an apostate. He was a Grey Warden. Though said saving was more like getting stabbed in the gut. Repeatedly. It did however keep Ser Rylock from dragging him before the Revered Mother and accusing him of murder.

  
The Commander told him that he had a feeling there were going to be strange times ahead if the speaking darkspawn was indicative of anything. He would need Anders' help and loyalty if they were all to get out of this alive. In return Cousland would give him his friendship and keep him safe from the Chantry. Anders had agreed, a bit reluctant to be chained to a cause but he could admire being part of something so much bigger than yourself. Garrett was like that, always willing to put others before himself. He would have made a better Grey Warden than Anders. He considered talking to the Commander about him, as the nobleman was constantly pestering him with questions about his past. He decided against it when the Warden's Orlesian lover, Leiliana, paid the Keep a visit. There was no need to dampen such happiness with his personal tragedies.

  
Instead he came up to the battlements as the sun was rising over the hills and pushing back the night time fog. He reached under the collar of his new blue and grey uniform and tugged out a leather cord with a small red stone on it. Garrett had given it to him on his fourteenth nameday, a tiny little trinket he'd managed to convince a Templar recruit to smuggle in for him. It was a heartstone. Old Ferelden wives tales said that they held special properties when given to someone the giver held most dear. Other than that they were uncommon, found occasionally near large lyrium deposits. It was a pretty little thing if nothing else, catching the light oh so perfectly. A small thing the size of a pearl, but heavy as a millstone. And the only thing Anders had left of his lost love. It was eating away at him and he couldn't continue living if he clung to that decaying memory. So, with heavy heart he removed the cord from his neck for the first time in years. The stone twinkled at him in the rising light, tempting him, but he did not give in. Standing up he took a small step back and threw the pendant with all his strength. He was free of his last constraint from the Circle, but all the emptier.

  
Later, in the Wending Woods, the Commander asked him what he wanted in life. He gave a smile to the man and replied 'A large estate, a plump wife and the freedom to shoot lightning at fools'. The Commander laughed and patted him on the back, they would have to find some pretty girl next time they were in the city. Leiliana would be all to happy to assist. Anders had laughed along with him, but it felt hollow. Didn't matter, the one person he would have let see the true mage was dust in the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't get even a little misty-eyed by the end of this, then I haven't done my job right


	5. In Parting, I Hold Your Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recommended song to listen to while reading is 'The Sound of Silence' by Simon and Garfunkel.  
> Another chapter where our heroes continue to live their separate lives. I've deviated from canon here for the purposes of this story. Instead of Justice coming through the Veil when the Baroness cast her spell, he is still in the Fade. He did encounter the Wardens, but did not possess Kristof's corpse. He will appear again later, but I always found the idea of a Fade spirit walking around in a decomposing body a bit disgusting. As one with a background in biology and biochemistry, it turned me off the canon plot off because I am acquainted with the process of decay.

(9:32) Deep Roads - Primeval Thaig

Garrett had walked away from the others pretending he needed a private moment to relieve himself. It was true that he did need a moment alone, but not to answer the call of nature. It was a call of something living in the stones. If what the dwarven legends said was true, the spirits of their worthy dead returned to sleep in the Stone's embrace. Those deemed unworthy were condemned to walk the tunnels, lost and wrathful until the end of time. After seeing those strange rock creatures, Garrett found himself taking the lore seriously. They had not seen them in the higher tunnels when they had been with the expedition party. It was safe to assume the areas closer to the surface had been patrolled in more recent centuries than these forgotten depths. Since Bartrand had trapped them down in the ancient Thaig, they had been forced to descend into parts unseen by living eyes for a millenia. The map that Varric had managed to purchase from a Warden named Rolan that had been passing through Kirkwall on his way to Ansburg had guided them to entrance, but did not show the Thaig. The place had likely been lost in the First Blight when Dumat had plagued the lands of Thedas for almost a hundred years before he was finally slain. Varric said the Warden hadn't initially been interested in selling the map, but after a few rounds of whiskey he was much more reasonable. As a former Templar, he hadn't been allowed to indulge much before he joined the Grey. Some of his lesser Templar qualities stayed with him though, as he spent a better part of the evening grumbling about apostates and how much he hated a particular one who was infamous for killing Rolan's Templar brothers in Amaranthine. Varric just kept quiet and plied more of Corff's finest until the Warden handed over the map and passed out. He had a terrible hangover, but didn't try to take the map back. Not that it did them any good this far off the beaten path.

Garrett closed his eyes and tried to center himself. He had begun to hear the whispers the moment they had found that damnable idol. Bethany and he had been able to sense the wrongness of its magic without even touching it. It had called to him like a hungry siren, begging for him to touch and mingle his magic with its. Thankfully, Varric had grabbed it first and taken the temptation permanently out of his hands when it was given to Bartrand. They had been horrified to hear the whining creak of the ancient hinges as the traitor shut the door. The idol might have influenced him to lock them in the chamber, or maybe the dwarf was just a psychopathic bastard. It didn't matter, they were trapped on the wrong side of the door with no where to go but forward.

The whispers had quieted when the idol was removed, but not gone. They didn't seem to be bothering Bethany, Varric, or Aveline though. They were all on edge, but that was due more to the fear of impending death by starvation or suffocation than shadowy, unseen voices. Garrett kept his mouth shut and pretended he couldn't hear them either. When they were fighting rock wraiths and shades, it was easier to block the voices out. The voices were stronger in the tunnels lined with the glowing red lyrium. He wondered if the spirits drew power from it or were in fact the source of the corruption. He did his best not to linger in those areas, but days crawling under the earth was a draining experience for all of them. There were times when they had no choice but to stop and rest in those places. In those brief moments of calm there was little to distract him. 

It had been a long day and they were all tired. His familial instincts overruled his need to keep moving when he saw the dark rings under his sister's eyes. Bethany had needed to rest, claiming she was completely exhausted from their latest skirmish with a large number of the wraiths and a vengeful golem. Garrett had wanted to keep moving as there were numerous stalactites of the red lyrium where she wanted to set up camp. Bethany didn't mind the lyrium, even found the light to be nice. Varric and Aveline had been neutral on that point, but neither had magic and one was immune to the effects of lyrium exposure. Seeing the bags under his sister's eyes Garrett had given in and set down his bed roll as far from the lyrium but still close to Bethany. He had been sleeping when the whispers crawled into his ears and woke him. They wouldn't even let him sleep anymore. Aveline and Varric had still been awake and noticed when he jolted awake. He lied and said it was just a bad dream before excusing himself. He had wandered to the far end of the tunnel, as far from the lyrium as he could get without completely leaving the camp site, but they still wouldn't leave him alone. 

 _So weak. They're all so weak...You could slit their throats in their sleep and they'd never know...._ Garrett clutched his head and tried to force the voice to shut up. The voices had become clearer as they came to the regions covered with the red lyrium. They actually spoke words rather than distant hissing. He growled and muttered 'shut up, shut up'.  _Pity isn't it?  You're just as pathetic...no wonder **he** never loved you...all you ever were was a game...all you are is a waste..._ Garrett crouched down and began to rock on his heels as he felt hot tears streaming down his cheeks. _you would do your mother a favor by ending it...they blame you for **his** death...you can't save anyone can you? End it...Take your blade...run it across your throat...so easy... **DO IT...DO IT NOW...**  _

"Hawke," he didn't hear Aveline come up behind him. The red headed saw her friend tugging at his hair and curled in on himself, "Hawke, what's wrong?" Aveline set down her weapons and knelt down to Garrett's level. He was sobbing and begging for someone to stop to talking to him. She tentatively reached out for him and set a hand on his shoulder.

"Make it stop, please! I don't want to do it!" Garrett sobbed, barely aware that he was no longer alone. He was starting to shake violently, "Aveline, make the voices stop! Please, they won't stop!" Aveline couldn't hear anything but her and Garrett, but tried to calm him down. She had known him for over a year now. Garrett was a patient, stubborn, good hearted man not prone to breaking down. He had shown as much when he had to relearn to walk after his accident and the following year as he paid off his uncle's numerous debts.  

"Listen to me, Hawke," she held his chin and had him look her in the eyes, "focus on my words. You need to get a hold of yourself. These voices," she made a broad gesture to the shadows, "they can't make you do anything you don't want to. They're just whispers, no bodies, no power but what you give them. They won't hurt you, not while I'm here." She put her hands on each side of his face as his sobs slowly stopped and faded into hiccups, "imagine a wall, a really thick stone wall. Think only about that wall and how thick it is. Let it go all around your mind, don't let anything get through. The voices can't get to you as long as you have that wall." It was a trick that her late husband had taught her before she had gone to Ostagar. He had been worried about the darkspawn mages trying to use bloodmagic on Cailan's army. He had insisted she learn to shield her mind from their influence and had practiced with her everyday before she left. He probably wouldn't approve of her teaching it to an apostate, but this was an odd situation.

"Aveline," Garrett said as he came back to himself, "they're gone. It's finally silent." He wrapped his arms around her in a surprise hug. "Thank you, sweet Andraste, thank you." She stiffened before relaxing and returning the hug. She wasn't the biggest fan of physical displays of affection, but she could make an exception for those closest to her. "How did you know what to do?" Garrett asked when the hug ended.

"Wesley taught me," a sad smile crossed her face, Aveline did not talk about her late husband if she could help it.

"Oh," Garrett cast his eyes down, "you don't have to talk about it if I don't want to."

"No," Aveline said, "it's good to speak of him sometimes, it helps me remember that he was alive and for all his strengths and virtues, he was still just a man." Garrett had never heard her speak of Wesley at such length over the last year. If she did bring him up, it was only in vague references to a life that was no longer hers. It had reminded him of how his mother had spoken of his father in the first six months after his passing. Malcolm the man had been replaced by Malcolm the idea or Malcolm the paragon. In death, it was easy to forge the small things that marked one as imperfect and fallible. The image in one's head is diluted from the hundreds of faces and moods a person wears in their lifetime down to a single facade.

"I didn't know him Aveline, but he seemed a good man, even if he was a Templar." Garrett offered, hoping the last part would make his friend smile again. She did and even gave a chuckle.

"I think he'd say the same of you Hawke, even though you are an apostate." Both smiled and thought of the ones that had left them behind. They weren't so terribly different, Aveline and Garrett, both silently taking their loved ones with them as they carried on. Two people who had lost Fathers and loves, they shared a bond that few could understand. "We should get back to the others. Safety in numbers."

"Yes," Garrett scrambled to his feet, "you're right." They returned to find Varric yawning and giving them a strange look. He noticed Hawke's tear reddened eyes, but kept his comments to himself. He thought Hawke had been a bit twitchy over the last few days, but had initially chalked it up to the oppressive atmosphere. After seeing how much the red lyrium seemed to bother the mage, he wasn't so sure. Hawke had mentioned something about the Veil feeling a bit thin, but he had no idea what that meant other than a general feeling of creepiness.

"I'll take watch," Aveline said, sitting down on her bed roll, "you look like you could use some sleep, Varric."

"Sleeping on rock isn't my idea of confortable," Varric quipped as he settled down, wiggling a bit as he attempted to find some mildly tolerant position, "again, I don't know why anyone would want to live down here. Must be crazy."

"They think the same of dwarves on the surface I bet," Garrett had lain back down after checking that Bethany was still asleep.

"Scoot over," Aveline had moved her bed roll closer to Garrett's, "come here," she sat down and pulled him over until he was resting his head on her thigh.

"People will talk," Garrett murmured, almost purring as he felt Aveline ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back behind his ear. She snorted and gave his ear a flick.

"As if people ever do anything else." Garrett made a hmm of agreement as he tried to relax and get some much needed rest. 

"Hawke, can I ask you something?" Aveline asked as she kept rubbing his hair. He nodded, "you said the voices were telling you things. What did they say?" Garrett swallowed as he recalled the words. He didn't want to talk about it, but it might be wise to tell someone, just in case. Aveline would keep him from doing anything he might regret. She could stop him from hurting Bethany if the voices got to strong again.

"They wanted me to hurt you, Beth, and Varric. They said I should slit your throats and then my own." Her hand stilled, "I won't do it." He looked up at Aveline, catching her eyes in the low light of the lyrium, "Aveline, promise me you won't let me. Promise you'll intervene if...the worst happens." 

"I promise. Now," she pressed him back down, "close your eyes, focus on something nice, and go to sleep." He did as she instructed. At first, he thought about the way the winds would blow through the wheat fields of Lothering, the cool air lifting the sweat from his brow and carrying the scent of upturned earth.  Then he thought of those golden amber waves another memory came to mind. One where the stalks of gold melted away into locks of hair the glinted golden red in sunlight with eyes like honey.When Garrett went in the Fade, he dreamed of Lothering restored with his family safe and sound. He was on a hill overlooking the farm and could hear his sibling's calling his name in the distance. At his side, he heard a warm voice that had not been in his dreams since the accident. Turning his head, he could see the familiar face of his first love. The blonde was smiling at him, so very happy to see him. _Ich habe dich meine liebe._  In his dreams, Garrett could understand the words to a language he had never learned.   _  
_

"I miss you too." 

(9:32) - Vigil's Keep

It should have been a day for celebration...No, it was a day for celebration, just not for Anders. He was happy for the recruits that had survived their Joining, one being from the Ferelden Circle. The mage, Finn, was an eccentric hypochondriac the Commander had picked up during his time hunting the witch Morrigan. He had been surprised by the Commander's choice to Conscript him, as Finn was more suited to scholarship than fighting. Still, the more mages the merrier. He was glad for someone besides Velanna as the Dalish witch made it clear she still hated most humans and only tolerated the rest. No matter how much he tried, Anders remained firmly in the first category.

Finn was chatty when he drank and it was a bit cute how he protested his inebriated state. He talked about his studies of old Tevinter magic at length and insisted on sticking close to Anders for the evening. He had heard all about the mage's legendary break outs and wanted to know how he had done it. It stopped being adorable the moment he pushed one of Anders' few buttons. The young enchanter had the gall to mention Garrett. The mage's escape was the stuff of legends for the apprentices. He kept asking about him even as Anders asked him to drop the subject. He had stopped only when Anders had given him the coldest stare possible, backing away and muttering apologies. At that point, even in his highly intoxicated euphoria, Finn knew he had gone too far. Anders had left the hall swiftly after that, ignoring the strange looks his fellow Wardens gave him.

He kept walking until he was sitting on the top of a turret overlooking the Keep's gates. There wasn't anybody posted at this hour, so it was just him and his thoughts. He knew Finn hadn't done it to be unkind, the kid was too damn polite and naive to have such viciousness. Garrett had become a bit of a myth by the time he had made his final escape and there were very few remaining mages who had actually known him. Niall was dead, Wynne was traveling, Aeryn was in the Free Marches, and Irving was preparing to retire to Orlais. Soon, there would be no one and Garrett would exist only in Anders' memories.

"There you are," he saw the Commander, "wondered where you had gotten to."

"Sorry, didn't mean to spoil the party," Anders said as the Commander took a seat beside him. Cousland didn't seem to bothered though, if anything, he looked happy to be outside rather than in the Great Hall. It was one of the quirks of the Commander's personality. He was the son of one of the oldest families in Ferelden and therefore expected to attend all the high society events and be a social butterfly. While Cousland was a social person, he didn't like large crowds. They made him nervous and he preferred to avoid gatherings of more than a dozen. Anders had been amazed when the Commander had told him this and had offered to make him a potion to deal with the anxiety, but the Commander declined.

"Don't worry about it, everyone's so drunk you could set the place on fire and nobody would notice. Though," the Commander gave him a wry grin, "please refrain from burning the place down, we did just rebuild it."

"There goes my plans for the evening." The Commander laughed and held out a dark bottle, "Commander, are you trying to get me drunk?"

"Maker, no!" Cousland protested as he drank from the flask he kept hidden on his person at all times, "last time that happened you insisted on running about in nothing but your smallclothes. I don't need to see that again." Cousland leaned forward and spoke with a more serious tone, "look, Anders, is everything alright? I know Finn is a bit...awkward, but he seems like a nice kid."

"It's not him," he sighed, "he asked about someone I lost in the Blight." Anders felt a hard lump in his throat that threatened to choke him,"it's been two years and I still miss them. I try no to think about them too often. " It had been two years and Anders could still smell the acrid scent of ash. He had never told the Commander about Garrett, but it seemed that it was perhaps time to tell him about his past. Maker, the Commander had been nothing but friendly and supportive in the last year. He'd saved Anders from Rylock and dismissed Rolan when he saw how the Templar enjoyed harassing the mage. The shocked expression on the former Templar's face had been priceless when the Commander told him his behavior would no longer be tolerated and to pack his bags. Anders was so happy to see the Templar leave the Keep for the final time he could have kissed the Commander. The Commander had earned his trust.  

"Oh," Cousland said, "I'm sorry. You never mentioned losing someone before. Were you close?" Anders took a drink from the bottle the Commander had given him. It was a strong, dark ale. An oddly appropriate choice considering how the mage was feeling.  

"At one time. But I messed up and ruined everything." Anders let out a short, brittle laugh, "the only person I ever loved, and I hurt them." The Commander's eyes softened, he'd never heard the mage speak so openly about his previous life. 

"Pretty girl from the Circle?" The Commander prompted Anders to keep talking. He wondered if they had died in the Tower when Uldred had attempted to turn all the mages into raving abominations. There was so much death that day, it was amazing that the Circle had any mages left to fight the Battle of Denerim.   

"Pretty, yes. Girl, no." The Commander's eyes widened a bit. He had never known Anders to be attracted to men. He had seen the women the mage had flirted with and a few that had gone further than that. "Does that bother you Commander?"

"No," Anders relaxed a bit, he should have known it wouldn't. While there were plenty of people out there that might disagree and even condemn him for having romantic intentions towards another man, Aedan Cousland was not one of them. The Commander placed a warm hand on his shoulder and gave him a warm smile that reached his dark green eyes, "you're the same person I knew yesterday, the same man today, and the same tomorrow."

"I..." Anders cleared his throat as struggled for the right words, "thank you. It means more to me than you can believe." Maybe the day would come when he would say more about Garrett. When he could tell the Commander how Garrett was a good person and would have made a better Grey Warden than Anders. The younger mage had always had such a strong moral compass. He was so gentle with the young apprentices still adjusting to Tower life and understanding of the Tranquil rather than put off by their lack of emotions. His blazing inner light had always been his most beautiful aspect. He wished he could have seen the handsome man he would have grown into to match.

"Anytime my friend. I know it's not easy to lose the ones we love," Cousland had lost most of his friends and family to Arl Howe's treachery. His brother was his only surviving kin as far as Anders knew. The Commander didn't talk about that day much, only that Duncan had saved his life by conscripting and taking him to Ostagar. The current Teryn's pains were more obvious than his brother's from what Anders had seen in a brief visit Fergus made the previous year. The man had gone gray and his sharp cheek bones hinted at unhealthy weight loss. His eyes carried a haunted expression that no amount of smiling erased. The eyes of man who had lost everything and Anders could empathize. "I still think of my mother and father," Cousland admitted, "there are days I wish I had stayed to defend them till the very end. I don't know if I could have made a difference, but guilt can make us blind."

"They'd be proud though. Killing the Archdemon and all, how many other people can say their son ended a Blight?"

"Point taken," Cousland held out his flask, "how about toast, for the honored dead?"

"For the honored dead." The bottle and flask clinked together before each took a deep drink. The two fell into a comfortable silence as they both reminisced about lost love and the life that had carried on in it's absence. They were ready to call it a night when there was a commotion at the gates. Someone was calling for the gates to be opened and claiming that it was an emergency. The two Wardens hurried to the courtyard to investigate. There they saw Senior Warden Stroud with several of his men. Two of them were trying to carry a person between them. The girl hung limply from their arms and was deathly pale in the bright moonlight. Anders could see from the bulging black veins that she was infected with Blight sickness. Stroud must have brought her to the Vigil in a last ditch effort to save her.

"Stroud," the Commander said, "what's going on? Is there a darkspawn attack coming?"

"No, Commander. But I do come on a most urgent mission." Stroud nodded at the girl, "she must undergo the Joining now if there is any chance for her to survive the night. We've used herbs to slow the taint, but it's progressed beyond our ability to control."

"I'll have Varel and Nathaniel set everything up," the Commander stepped back in his role as leader. Cousland took the girl from the other Wardens, easily hefting her lean form into a cradle carry. The girl barely stirred as her head came to rest under his chin. "Be at ease sister, you'll be better soon." Turning back to Stroud he asked, "what is her name?"

"Bethany Hawke." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, out of curiosity, who was your Hawke's best friend? In my playthrough, Aveline ended being my Hawke's best friend. Anders and Hawke will meet up again in the next two chapters, and it will be an interesting reunion!


	6. The Peacekeepers, Champions of the Just

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last, our heroes reunite. Sort of. Suggested song for this chapter is Carnival of Rust by Poets of the Fall.

_'Blessed are they who stand before_

_The corrupt and wicked and do not falter_

_Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions_

_Of the just_

_Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow_

_In their blood the Maker’s will is written'_

Benediction 4:10-11

(9:33) - Outskirts of Kirkwall - Wounded Coast

"Hawke, give me hand with this." Garrett was stirred from his thoughts when he heard Aveline calling. They had just finished clearing a large number of giant venomous spiders from the Bone Pit and had begun to head back to Kirkwall late in the afternoon. The situation began as the mine's original tunnels were expanded and added onto. One of the miners, a man called Rolf, had been following a rich silverite vein when his pickax had gone right through the tunnel wall. The men had shone a lamp through the whole and saw the silverite glinting in the dark where the light hit. Then came the clicking sounds. The new tunnel had been completely overrun with the vermin and it had taken the better part of a day to fully clean house. Hubert had been told about the situation almost a week ago, but had chosen to ignore it until two of the miners had nearly been ripped in half by the beasts. Out of fear of Garrett's wrath, he had told his business partner about the mines and had even promised to finally hire some guards to protect the workers. He knew that Hawke was always trying to help his fellow Ferelden refugees and if anything happened to them, Hubert's head was on the metaphorical chopping block. Garrett would have gone for a routine inspection sooner anyway if he weren't so preoccupied with the upcoming visit from the Grey Wardens. The Commander in Ferelden had heard about the amount of silverite ore the mine was producing and had wanted to come to some agreement on buying in bulk. The mine near Amaranthine was tapped out and they had needed a new source of raw material for their armor. To sweeten the deal, the Commander had promised to bring his sister to Kirkwall. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts of Bethany and the Wardens that things had escaped him. By the merciful grace of the Maker, none of the miners had suffered permanent injury. And they had been thrilled to see their boss incinerate the monsters with a rain of fire as none felt threatened by his apostate status. If anything, they loved the idea of Hawke being able to set Hubert on fire someday. But that was not likely to happen, so the fireballs got redirected elsewhere. "The wood here is too damp."

"One display of magic, coming right up." Garrett summoned a small fireball and tossed it onto the pile of wood Aveline had gathered for their campfire. The damp wood hissed and smoked, but stayed lit. Normally, Garrett would have just made the fire up with dry kindling and a flint, but it had been raining for the last week. Aveline set a few small pieces onto the cheery blaze and sat down on one of the large logs they had moved to use as seating. Fenris and Varric were off scrounging up any small game that might be nearby.

"You seem happy, Hawke," Aveline smiled as he took a seat on the opposite side of the fire. Garrett had been rather depressed since Bethany had contracted the Taint and joined the Grey Wardens. The young woman had been rather resentful of her situation and had ceased to communicate with him after informing her brother of her survival. Letters arrived from Ferelden only for their mother and Carver, with Garrett only hearing things second hand. He had thrown himself fully into restoring the Amell estate and concentrated on the mine. This, in addition to odd job Aveline would toss his way every now and then, kept him from dwelling on the state of his relationship with Bethany. They had always been so close, and now she couldn't stand him. He might as well have lost her to a death in the Deeps from the silence that was directed his way. Aveline had stepped into the sister role since then, offering him support on those days it was almost too much. But in recent weeks, the Garrett she had met in Ferelden had started to come back. He smiled more and even laughed on occasion. Not nearly enough as far as his friends were concerned, but it was much better than in the last year.

"It's been a good few months," Garrett said as he warmed his hands by the fire, "the house if finally finished, business at the mines is good, and I've gone a week without someone trying to stab me."

"I'm sure your mother is very happy about the last part. Poor Leandra almost had a heart attack last month when you limped home because the Carta almost hamstrung you." The Carta had been involved in a smuggling ring that had branched out into human trafficking. There was evidence of a Tevinter magister's involvement, but no concrete evidence. Luckily, they had arrived just in time to free half a dozen men and women before they could be shipped off to the Minrathous slave market. One of the Carta had managed to get the drop on Garrett and cut him deep on the back of his thigh, but missed the tendon and major arteries. Fenris had removed the dwarf's head before it could get another swipe in. Garrett had been able to bind the wound with a shredded cloak Aveline liberated from one of the Carta corpses. It made him wish he had learned more than the most basic healing spells as the gash was too deep for such magic. His mother had nearly fainted when she saw him attempting to stitch it close. It had been weeks before he could leave the house without Leandra paling.

"Yes," Garrett laughed with a bit of bashfulness, "I think she'll kill me herself I ever come home like that again. Should have learned healing magic when I was in the Circle, but I never had much talent or interest outside of primal or elemental magicks." His father had been much the same. Beyond the most basic healing spell, Malcolm was clueless. Both mages preferred the more physically rigorous schools and had some talent for the particular branch of primal school known as earth magic. If the old tales were true, it was what the ancient Tevinters used to sink Arlathan into the ground. Garrett wasn't nearly so powerful, but he could exert  some control on the ground in his immediate vicinity. It was quite handy when one had multiple enemies running their way and needed to send them toppling down. 

"I suppose you were also a bit busy planning your grand escape." He hadn't told Aveline the whole story behind his escape. He had left out certain key details, Ander, Aeryn, the despair that came with realizing the truth about relationships in the Circle, and Godwin's name. The mage was still alive, somehow, and running a smuggling ring with some dwarves in Orzammar. Aveline only knew about the bribe for the phylactery and a hidden passage that had been destroyed so the Templars wouldn't follow. "Did you ever miss it? Being in Circle I mean, you never talk about it."

"Not really, it's like being in a fancy prison where the guards wear metal skirts. I do miss all those books though." The Tower had a vast collection that had been steadily accumulated over the centuries. A number were incredibly rare and were the only existing copies of many mages' lifeworks. He had been able to learn from masters who had long left the mortal realm and further his studies beyond what his mentors were able to teach. Finding similar books was difficult outside the Circle, but his own library in the Amell estate was slowly growing from what his contacts in the mage underground could find for him.

"Books?" Aveline raised an eyebrow, "only you could miss nothing but books." Garrett just shrugged and rubbed his hands together for warmth. The wind coming off the ocean was cold and Garrett wished his cloak hadn't been destroyed by a spider. "I'm surprised your brother became a Templar, given you and Bethany are mages."

"It is hard to believe, but he's made his choice. Not one I approve of, but Mother says he seems more settled. So, there's that." Garrett didn't trust any Templars. His mistrust had formed early in the Tower when one especially sadistic recruit had begun targeting young and vulnerable apprentices. The recruit, a malicious young man named Alfric, would find children who were alone and exercise his Smite ability on them. The children had taken to going everywhere in groups of at least two to avoid their tormentor. Garrett was fortunate that he was always with Aeryn and Anders so Alfric avoided them for easier prey. It had been alright until one day when Garrett was walking to the apprentice quarters on his own. He had been walking fast so that he wouldn't get caught alone, but Alfric had been waiting behind an archway. The Templar had given him a wicked grin that showed all his teeth. Garrett's heart had been pounding and he started to hyperventilate. He opened his mouth to beg to pass, but the older boy hit him with a Smite before he could even utter a syllable. He'd screamed as the force of the Smite tossed him back against the wall. Warm, sticky blood gushed from his nose and dripped down his chin. Alfric just laughed and was ready to Smite him again when something slammed into him from behind. Alfric was thrown off balance and landed on his stomach with a loud crash. He growled when he saw what had hit him. Anders had shown up just in time to save him from another dose of pain. Garrett threw his arms around the older boy and refused to let go. Alfric was ready to hit them both when Greagoir intervened. To his credit, the Knight Commander listened to both sides of the story and even used his own handkerchief to wipe away the blood on Garrett's face. Alfric was subsequently removed from the Tower, but not forgotten. Garret had seen how those with power could be so comfortable with abusing their charges and his later escape had concentrated it all down to a strong, if mildly paranoid fear of the Chantry's foot soldiers. To return home from the Deep Roads and find his brother had joined the order was a smarting betrayal. He had even gone to ground, hiding along the Wounded Coast for almost three months before he felt it safe enough to return home. Carver was unlikely to turn him in, but the fear was deeply ingrained.

"That's a very mature attitude," Aveline commented, "I'm not sure most would feel the same if they were in your shoes."

"Family is family, and you guys are all I got. I'll try to hold onto what I have, never know when it's going to be taken away." Aveline nodded and gave him a knowing look. Hawke was like family to her too. The two sat in silence listening to the fire crackle and pop as they waited for Varric and Fenris to return with dinner. They were beginning to worry though, as Fenris and Varric had been gone for several hours. It shouldn't have taken that long as rabbits and other small game were plentiful in the region. They were ready to go looking for them when the elf and dwarf came sprinting back with weapons drawn and no food. 

"We've got company!" An arrow flew past Garrett's head and landed in the log where Aveline was sitting still twitching from the force of it's release. Garrett unstrapped his staff and leapt to his feet. In the light cast by the campire fire he could see the shambling shapes of the undead stumbling their way. The skeletons hissed as they came into view, and Garrett could sense the dark magic controlling them. Blood magic. He knew there had to be a maleficar nearby playing the puppet master. The skeletons weren't difficult opponents due to their decrepit bones, but they were rarely summoned without...oh, there was the Revenant that Garrett had been dreading.

"Shit." 

~

The sky ripped open as clap of thunder and clash of thunder sliced across the night sky. Varric amd Aveline concentrated on the numerous shuffling skeletons that kept creeping in from the shadows as Fenris and Garrett fought the Revenant. The corpse was still dressed in ancient Tevinter style armor with it's massive plate and high winged helm. It wielded a large bastard sword and smooth bronze shield. Fenris tried a direct attack, but the creature had unnatural strength that allowed it to knock the elf aside like a twig. It didn't seemed interested in him anyway. It focused it's attention on the mage. The Revenant tried to pull him in with a burst of telekinesis, but Garrett was able to neutralize it with his own power. He aimed a bolt of lightning at the monster, aiming for the shield and armor. The metal sparked and glowed as the electric current ran across it. On a living being, it would have been a death sentence. 

On the Revenant, it was simply an annoyance. The creature let out an inhuman growl as the final crackling arc of lightning went out. It’s dead flesh steamed from the intense heat and burns, but it’s fighting was unaffected. It swung out and caught Garrett’s staff. The blade screeched as it ran along the aurum covering the dragonthorne core, white sparks coming off as it continued to slide. The Revenant’s superior strength forced Garrett down to his knees as he continued to use his staff to block the sword. The creature raised it’s blade and prepared to bring it down in one swift motion when a long sword rammed through it’s torso. The thing looked down at the blade poking through  with black ooze dripping down from the tip.

“Hawke!” Fenris called from behind the Revenant, “now!” Garrett swung the two and half foot blade at the end of his staff up and through the Revenant’s neck. It fly off and the body collapsed. No longer fighting for his life, Garrett could now make out a hooded figure watching him from just beyond the campfire light. It turned and ran as soon as it realized Garrett could see it.

“Stop!” Garrett took off, chasing down the figure. The person cast a spell of haste and attempted to flee into the maze like paths that lined the upper parts of the Wounded Coast. If he didn’t keep up, the unknown mage could probably disappear into any number of the caves smugglers used to hide from authorities. He cast a glyph of haste and took off. He could hear Fenris calling but kept going. The mage was clearly a maleficar and he couldn’t allow such people to run around summoning demons and creating chaos. He followed the hood figure into a small cleared area that backed into high rock walls, but they didn’t seem too concerned. He heard them let out a short whistle and two more figures peeled away from the shadows. In the moonlight he could see the feral grin the leader wore under their hood.

“Serah Hawke, alone at last.”

~

The Grey Wardens had been traveling by ship, but had been forced to dock early when the hull began to leak. They had run into a storm near Brandel’s Reach and the ship had run along some submerged rocks and nearly gutted. The Captain had docked in Ostwick and had told the Commander he wouldn’t have the boat fixed for almost two weeks. Rather than test their luck on open water again, the Commander had decided they would hoof it to Kirkwall. If they kept a good pace they might even make it on time.

The Commander had brought four of his Wardens with him on the trip. He had decided that in addition to Bethany, it would be wise to bring along Nathaniel Howe, Sigrun, and Anders. Nate Howe had spent years in the Free Marches and was well connected to various nobles and merchants. If the deal fell through, Nate might be able to find them alternative. Sigrun had mentioned that there were some old Deep Roads exits not far from Kirkwall that might warrant investigating if the tales of rising darkspawn numbers were true. She still had a map of the Roads in the Free Marches from her time in the Legion of the Dead that indicated at least one in the Vinmarks. Anders was brought along because he was the only mage who could cast decent healing spells.

“Maker,” Anders groaned, “I think I could sleep for week when we get to Kirkwall.”

“Stop whining, at least you have those long legs.” Sigrun said with a roll of her eyes. The mage could be rather lazy when the mood hit him. Some days, it was amazing how long he had lasted in the Wardens. Then again, it was amazing he had survived his Joining. Deciding to find another way to amuse herself besides another round of ‘I Spy’ with Nate, Sigrun began teasing the blonde mage. “Hey, set that bush on fire!”

“Why would I do that? Why do you want me to kill a bush?” Anders laughed at the big grin the dwarf was sporting. Sigrun could be grouchy at times, but she could be rather silly when it came to magic and kittens. She liked playing with Ser Pounce-a-lot whenever she was not on patrol and fed the increasingly chubby tabby scraps from the dinner table.

“Because it’s there. It’s an evil bush. Do it!” Bethany and Nate were chuckling now as the dwarf woman continued sassing the mage. As Nate had once pointed out, she could be remarkably perky for a dead woman.

“Magic isn’t for your amusement! Do I look like a jester to you?” When no one said anything in response Anders feigned horror with a gasp, “I have the ability to control the forces of nature and you laugh? Fine, no more healing for any of you. Don’t come crying to me when you’re bleeding out!” The four laughed until they heard the sudden booming crack of thunder and the blinding flash of lightning arcing across the heavens. They looked up to a clear, cloudless sky full of twinkling stars and a full moon.

“What was that?” Bethany asked.

“Magic. Strong magic,” Anders said, the hairs along his neck standing on edge. The Commander’s calm face creased into a frown. They hadn’t been expecting any trouble as they walked the coast line. Bandits maybe, but not magic.

“Right, let’s see what’s causing all the commotion. With any luck, they’ll have no quarrel with us.” The Wardens moved swiftly and quietly along the cliffs and broken ruins that lined the edges. The sound of thunder echoed once more across the cliffs, the rock walls amplifying and distorting the sounds. They could see the light of fire ahead that guided them in the correct direction. As they kept going, they began to make out voices, male and female. Bethany suddenly stopped.

“Wait, that’s Aveline! We have to help, hurry!” Bethany ran ahead of her group and down a sandy slope. She saw the area was filled with shambling corpses. “Aveline! Varric!” She called out as she saw the two of them in the midst of the skirmish. The dwarf glanced her way as he shot down two corpses with his beloved crossbow.

“Sunshine? What are you doing…never mind, just give us hand.” Bethany froze a skeleton that was about to stab Aveline in the back and shattered it with a stone fist. Her fellow Wardens came rushing to help. The Commander and Sigrun charged forward and chopped the legs right out from under several of the fiends. Nathaniel and Anders kept back, giving long distance attacks of arrows and fireballs. The undead were decimated once backup had arrived.

“Bethany? Maker, it really is you.” Aveline said, completely astonished at the Grey Warden’s timely and unexpected rescue. She couldn’t help but stare at their rescuers. Bethany’s eyes were harder than the last time Aveline had seen her. The gentle, naïve doe eyes were gone. In her grey and blue, she was almost a completely different person.

“What are you doing out here, Aveline?” Bethany asked, “shouldn’t you be in the city?”

“Heading back actually. There was an incident in the mines and your brother… wait, Varric, where’s Hawke?” The red head looked around. There was a pile of dead skeletons, a decapitated Revenant, and a troop of Wardens, but no sign of Fenris or Garrett. “Bugger.”

~

“Who are you?” Garrett asked the hooded woman, “how do you know my name?” The woman gave a harsh laugh that her followers echoed. The mage felt a chill run down his spine. These people, they were all blood mages, he could smell the rotten tang of old iron that always clung to maleficarum.

“You underestimate yourself Serah. The name Hawke is on many lips, Hawke the mercenary, Hawke the Hightown upstart, Hawke…” the woman seemed to glide across the ground as she spoke, the edges of her cloak blending in with the shadows, “the apostate. I’m surprised the Templars haven’t cut off your head yet.”

“I’d imagine it’s because I’m not a blood mage.” Garrett answered, feeling those hooded eyes digging into him, trying to peel back his skin and look directly into his soul.

“No, you’re too weak. You hold back from your full potential and let those Chantry dogs collar you. Pity, Tarhone thought you might be persuaded to join our cause before you saved the maggot.” Garrett’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the dead woman. Tarhone had caused quite a mess before her death at Garret’s hands. The madwoman had thought to bring the old Tevinter Imperium back by sowing chaos in the Templar ranks in the form of abominations. At least one, Wilmot, had succumbed to the demon forced into his body. Keran had been barely alive when Garrett found him in the Darktown lair. Tarhone had thought she could persuade him to join her cause. After all, what hope for safety could an apostate have in such a Templar filled city? He had flat out refused and ended her scheme with a knife to the forehead. Or so he had thought. It would appear that at least one of her disciples had escaped. One that was intent on turning him into a vessel for a demon or killing him outright.

“Only the weak summon demons.” Garrett spat. The woman hissed at the insult, “you want to fight? You know what I did to Tarhone, what makes you think you’ll fare better?”

“Such bravado for a dead man. You’re outnumbered three to one.” Garrett saw one of the figures suddenly grab something. A person, a girl by the screams. The figure tossed her to the ground. The leader pushed back her hood and Garrett could finally see her face. It was harsh and angular with short cropped black hair and unnaturally dark eyes. The woman gave him a psychotic grin and grabbed the screaming girl that had been thrown at her feet. The girl was probably only thirteen and dressed in the simple clothes of those the Chantry took in from the streets on cold nights. The girl was dirty and her hair a greasy dark brown, she had probably been stolen days ago with no one even noticing her absence. “Such a delicate little thing, but even this mundane creature offers power. If you are strong enough to take it.” The woman pulled out a knife from her sleeves and pressed it to the girl’s throat.

“No!” Garrett shouted as a thin line of red appeared across the girl’s neck. Blood spilled from the wound and the girl reached up to slow the bleeding. Garrett was able to catch her as the blood mage kicked her away. Garrett tore the edge of his tunic and wrapped it tight around the girl’s neck. She gasped and tried not to choke on her own tongue. Garrett snarled at the laughing blood mage, “you bitch.”

“Hawke,” Fenris had finally caught up. He bristled when he saw the blood mages and the pale girl in Garrett’s arms. He was about to draw his sword when Garrett stopped him.

“Fenris, get the girl out of here. There’s healing potions in my bag. Hurry.” Garrett put the girl into Fenris’ arms and ordered him to run. The elf didn’t question him and ran to get help. “You shouldn’t have done that.” He emphasized his point by letting the end of his staff thump on the ground with tremor that briefly unbalanced the blood mages. 

“Enough talk, kill this bastard.”

~

Fenris managed to carry the girl all the way back to the campsite. She whimpered and continued to cry even as he tried to keep her steady.

“Fenris,” Aveline called as she saw him running down the path with a bundle in his arms, “what’s happened? Whose this?”

“Blood mages, three of them. They tried to use the girl for her blood. Her throats cut, where’s Hawke’s bag?” He barely noticed the additional four people in the camp. He only wanted to fix the girl and get back to his friend.

“I can help,” a blonde man said, “let me have a look.” Fenris glared at the man. He was clearly a mage by the staff he had strapped across his back. He reluctantly let the blonde take a look at the girl. “It’s ok,” the mage said in a soft voice, “I’m going to make you all better. Just close your eyes and when you open them, it’ll be done.” The girl shut her eyes tight and the blonde mage held a hand over her wound. He closed amber eyes and a blue light streamed from his hand. As he continued to pour his energy into the healing, her color began to come back and her breathing less labored. “OK, you can open them now.” The girl opened her eyes and touched her neck. The mage unwrapped the makeshift bandage and revealed smooth skin.

“Thank the Maker,” Aveline let out a breath, “Fenris, where are they?”

“Up near the caves.” The guard captain grabbed the shield she had set down and nodded, “after you, Aveline.”

~

Two of the figures, now clearly seen to be male in the moonlight charged at Garrett. They let out wordless cries of adrenaline fueled blood lust and prepared to take the mage down. Garrett raised his fist and used his mana to channel the ground’s natural force of gravity. The two men were lifted from their feet and slammed into the dirt. They screamed as their armor began to crush their internal organs. Garrett relented and lifted the pressure. Neither moved when he released him, both terrified of what he could do to them with so little effort.

“Get up! Get up you worthless worms.” Their leader shouted at them, but they refused to obey. As punishment for their disobedience, she used her magic to boil them from the inside with their own blood. “Useless scum.”

“Just you and me now.” Garrett said, giving his staff a flourish and letting brilliant bolts of electricity arc along the weapon’s metal surface.

“Fine by me, I wanted to be the one who ripped your heart from your chest anyway.” The blood mage sliced her palm and used to blood to send a wave of energy knocking Garrett back. He raised shield just in time to avoid having his face scalded by the liquid. She slammed her own staff into the ground and called forth a pair of shades to aid her. The Fade creatures glowed and floated in the air, their long claws raking hungrily towards Garrett. “Kill him!” The shades shrieked and came at the mage. Garrett threw a fireball their way. One caught the full blast of the fire and went up screaming as it was consumed in a blaze. The remaining shade dodged the fire and raked it’s claws across Garrett’s chest, tearing his tunic and catching the side of his jaw. He sent a pulse of energy it’s way to shove it back. He reached up to check the cut. It wasn’t deep, but it stung like hell.

“To the void with you!” Garrett shot a bolt of lightning at the shade’s glowing maw. The creature howled as it’s body was torn to shreds by the mage’s primal magic. “No more games, we end this now.” The blood mage laughed insanely and came at him. She swung her staff like a spear and tried to impale him on the three foot long blade at the end. He caught it with his staff and used his weight to push back. They staves clanged together as they fought in close quarters. Garrett tried to use his force magic to get some space between them, but she was able to use her blood magic to stop him. In a last ditch effort to gain some advantage, Garret used his staff to channel a high frequency pulse. His staff shook and lit up as he hit the metal rings on the blood mage’s staff. The pulse traveled from the staff into her hands and up her spinal column. She dropped the staff as her eyes rolled back into her head and spittle foamed from her mouth. Seconds later she collapsed and did not get up. “Thank Andraste.” Garrett sighed, his body and spirit spent from the fight.

“Hawke!” He turned around to see Aveline and Fenris running towards him. “Hawke, are you alright?” Aveline saw the cut on his jaw and began fussing over it.

“I’m fine, it’s just a scratch.” He was feeling a bit light headed though, the fight had taken more of his energy than he would have liked. “Let’s go, I don’t want to linger here.” The smell of blood magic was palpable and mildly nauseating. The three slowly worked their way back down to the lower cliffs, Aveline telling him about the timely appearance of Bethany and the Grey Wardens. “Maker has a sense of humor after all, sending my baby sister to save us.” He rubbed his eyes, the world was getting blurry now. Oh, that wasn’t good. The shade’s claws must have been poisoned from the heat that was shooting through his veins. “Aveline, help.” He uttered as his legs gave out and almost fell face first into the dirt.

“Hawke, Hawke, wake up.” Aveline tried to shake him back to wakefulness, but his eyes stayed shut. “Get the healer, I’ll stay with him.” Fenris nodded and ran back to camp to fetch the Grey Warden who had healed the blood mage’s captive. “Stay with me, Hawke.” She chewed her lip anxiously as she waited for Fenris to return. Hawke was burning with fever and panting like dog on the hottest day of summer. She silently thanked the Maker when she heard footsteps coming their way. “Warden, my friend needs healing, he’s burning up.” The blonde mage gave her a reassuring smile before he knelt down to take a look at his patient. His eyes widened as he stared at the unconscious man in her arms. His mouth opened and shut twice before he was able to say anything. He reached out with a shaking hand to touch Garrett’s cheek. When the man didn’t simply vanish in front of his eyes, he let out a choking noise.

“Meine liebe. Garrett.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also hoping to do a collection of one-shots. I want to do them mostly in the Dragon's Fire 'verse, but may switch over to full canon in some. If anyone has any prompts they would like to see done, you can contact me at fangornmage@gmail.com.  
> I'll be more than happy to write it and dedicate it to a person to the requestor! -Fangorn


	7. Softly Love and to Love Softly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay, had to write an entire chapter with no prior framework. I'm such a horrible person to Anders, but he does get his sweetheart in the end. Suggested song for this chapter is 'Love, Love, Love' by the Mountain Goats. Thanks for all the reviews and kudos, it inspires me to type this out all the faster. A special thanks to the wonderful comments from Mishaspanties and Saria, it truly made my day to hear from you guys!

_'The one who repents, who has faith,_  
_Unshaken by the darkness of the world,_  
_She shall know true peace.'_

 _'The Light shall lead her safely_  
_Through the paths of this world, and into the next.'_

Transfiguration 10: 1-3, 13-14

 

(9:32) - Vigil's Keep

On a night that Anders would remember for the rest of his life, the wheel of Fate began to turn once more. The Commander and he had taken a much needed breather from the festivities of a successful Joining. The Commander had somehow managed to finally get the mage to speak of his past in more than vague anecdotes of robes and grouchy Templars. To his surprise, the Commander had not been bothered by his long carried torch for another man. He would later tell Anders of Zevran and his numerous attempts to get Cousland in bed. 

On that night, Stroud returned to Ferelden with a woman who was toeing the threshold of life and death. It was nothing short of a miracle that she had survived so long already and spoke of her strong will. Bethany Hawke had been recruited into the Wardens after exposure to the Blight on an expedition to the Deep Roads. By sheer luck, her brother had managed to find a Warden patrol in the upper Deep Roads. Senior Warden Stroud had been surprised to see them, as this part of the Deeps had long been abandoned by the dwarven occupants and their patrol was the only one in years. Her brother had begged for Stroud's help even as Bethany pleaded for him to not let her be taken. Her brother had ignored the wish and handed her over to the Wardens. He seemed sorry to do so and had even asked for her forgiveness, but had been denied.

She had initially blamed her older brother for her sickness and had refused to send him word of her Joining. Apparently the big brother was annoyingly perfect in the eyes of their mother and friends. Bethany did love him, but she was also very unhappy about having to become a Grey Warden to stay alive while he returned unscathed. It may have been a bit unfair for her to aim her anger at one of the people who had saved her, but Anders wasn’t one to judge. Stroud had been the one to break the good news to the family. He would have offered to help if he felt he was qualified, but Anders preferred to stay out of other people's family drama. Him and family didn't mix since his father had disowned him for simply being different. A mage in a devoted Anderfels family was nothing short of the highest mark of shame. His brokenhearted mother had not been so quick to hand him over, clinging and begging for the Templars not to take her child. One of them had had finally had enough and slapped her hard with the back of his hand, sending her tumbling to the ground. The Templars had then tossed Anders over his shoulder and began the long march to tge Ferelden Circle. It was the last memory he had of home, looking over the Templar's metal clad shoulder that jarred painfully into his stomach and he was bounced with every booted step. His mother was watching them leave through a curtain of disheveled white blonde hair and drops of blood fell from her split lip _Nein Nein, meine sohn! Wilhelm nein!_   He would never see her again as she died a few years later in childbirth. Both mother and newborn died in the night from blood loss and fever, his father soon followed when he drank an extract of wolfsbane to escape shame and grief at long last. Family had only ever proved to be a dream. On that always ended in heartache and blood. So, no, as much as he may have wanted to understand his fellow apostate he simply did not have the experiences needed.

Instead he offered the only form of comfort he really knew how to give, offering lots of tear inducing alcohol and bad jokes. Bethany had been flattered by his advances, but uninterested in anything beyond a drink. She didn't indicate that she was interested in any emotional entanglements for the time and that suited Anders just fine. He liked her, he really did, but he couldn't bring himself to act on it. Since opening up to Aedan Cousland about Garrett, he hadn't felt the need to toss himself into meaningless flings with strangers. There'd be talk of the two mages sneaking off to her room in the late hours of the night, but it was all rubbish. Besides, it was obvious Nate was over to moon for this dark haired beauty and Anders wouldn't mess with that. The Maker knew that Nate needed someone to make him smile at least once a month.

"I wonder what Hawke and Carver are doing with the money they made from the expedition" She was lying on her stomach and stretched out over her bed. They had left the Great Hall a while ago once Oghren had passed out and begun to snore far too loudly. They had also liberated a few jars of the whiskey the dwarf had been eyeing for weeks. The dwarf would be furious when he woke up to find them gone. "It looked like there was a lot of gold in that Vault. I wonder if they've bought back the old family estate yet." She always called the oldest brother Hawke. Anders found it a bit strange that she didn't refer to him by his given name, but she simply stated that everyone called him that. Fair enough point so he didn't question it anymore as they were unlikely to ever meet. Not if he was able to purchase the family estate and regain the the family standing in Kirkwall's elite.

"You have an estate in Kirkwall?" Anders sat back against the headrest, taking another drink from a bottle of whiskey they had pilfered from the cellars and enjoying the warmth emanating from the hearth. There was one good thing about the rooms in the Keep and that was that they were usually quite cozy. Far better than the drafty dormitories in the Tower or the shack Bethany's Uncle had been living in.

"No" she snorted, "I have nothing. My brother, the lucky bastard, gets everything. The gold, the glory and the Amell estate." There was that bitterness again, it tainted the bright personality that sometimes shown through on better days. Bethany would come round to her new life someday, as most Grey Wardens who underwent the Joining with little choice. She was just too sweet to stay angry forever.

"Amell? I knew a Daylen Amell in the Circle. Relative of yours?" Bethany shrugged. As far as Anders knew, Daylen had come from the Freemarches and had been taken at a very yearly age. He had been in Nevarra during the Blight and escaped a potential possession. Where he was now was anyone's guess.

"Maybe, never met any of my mother's family and father never talked about his family. They’re probably dead. Still, it makes me so angry. I know Hawke didn't give me the Blight, but I feel that he should have done more. I don't like that he chose my fate and gave me absolutely no choice." Anders ran a soothing hand down her back, over the curve of her spine, sending a small wave of healing energy that would sooth her. He doubted her older brother could have done much more. The Blight was a terrible sickness and those who caught it either died slowly or became monstrous ghouls. He had seen such creatures when the Commander was first taking control of the Vigil and had to investigate the dungeons. Nathaniel's old nanny had become one such creature and was beyond helping when they found her. Her death was a mercy. Hawke must have been truly desperate if he had sought out the Wardens.

Stroud had told him how the young man had begged him to save his sister and had even offered to die in her place if that was required. Beth had no idea how lucky she was. Most people would have just put a knife in her heart to end it quickly. But she didn't want to hear that. "What about you Anders, did you have a choice in the Joining?"

"Nope. It was drink the darkspawn blood and pass out or be dragged back to the Circle and be executed. Personally, I like being alive far too much. I'm also just to charming to die." This made Beth giggle. She grabbed the bottle and took another drink.

"I'll say, too charming for your own good. My brothers would kill you if they were here. Hawke almost ripped one of the neighbor boys in half when he tried to kiss me once." She laughed at the memory of her big brother chasing down the brazen boy with a pitchfork as he threatened to kill him. She had thought him overreacting till her brother told her that the boy, Adam, had only just three days ago tried to sleep with Peaches, Carver’s crush. She had slapped Adam the next time she saw him and her brother had never looked so proud.

"Small mercy they're not here then." The sat in contented silence for a time after, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.

"Tell me about the Circle" Beth asked as she herself had never spent anytime as a captive mage. Unlike Anders or Finn, she had always lived as an apostate. Finn was more amazed that she had never wanted to see the library in the Tower more than her actual life outside the Circle. Anders was downright envious. He had always imagined what it would be like to live a life without Templars constantly looking over your shoulder. To hear her have any interest in Circle life left him a bit baffled. 

"Why? It's a terrible place full of Templars and high ceilings. End of story."

"Please?" she asked with a pleading tone, "my father was in the Circle, but he refused to ever speak of it. I always wanted to know more about it, what may have been my fate if father hadn't kept us safe." She pouted a bit and his resolve crumbled. She looked like Pounce when he wanted someone to scratch his chin and he could never refuse those eyes.

"Fine" Anders shifted, getting comfortable as it was quite a bit to tell, "the Circle of Ferelden is not as strict as some, but we weren't allowed to leave. We spend our whole lives living on an island in the middle of Lake Calenhad with libraries full of books telling us all about the places we can never go. And the Templars are always watching, ready to Smite if you step out of line. They would sometimes take delight in tormenting the apprentices about their upcoming final test and the consequences of failure. I used to get so mad, but I couldn't do anything. That and my friends wouldn't let me." Aeryn and Garrett were always more level headed than him, holding him back from punching the living daylight out of some of the more sadistic Templars. Without them, he would have cracked and probably not even been allowed to take his Harrowing because of 'violent' behavior. "There were some good things, like learning magic, but for the most part it's a gilded cage with an armored gauntlet slowly crushing it. I was ready to kiss the Commander's boots when I realized I'd never have to go back." Good things in the Tower were more rare than a flawless diamond and treasured just as highly. He could still smell the leather of the books and hear the sound of Garrett's laughter. That beautiful, rich sound that nothing had ever rivaled in splendor. It didn't help that Beth's laughter reminded him of Garrett's.

"So you miss some people at the Circle? Anyone special?"

"A few. And there was someone, a long time ago." He didn't know why he brought it up. It was likely the alcohol eroding away the walls he normally kept up. He turned his head to look at the wall. He didn't want her to see the moisture clouding his vision. Beth realized this, but was curious about Anders' past and the 'special' people in it.

"What happened? Did you have to leave them behind when you joined the Wardens?" Anders shook his head.

"No, they died. In the Blight, I tried to find them, but they were gone by the time I got there. The whole village had been burned to the ground." He felt the old wound throb in his chest as he pictured the ruined farmlands.

"I'm sorry" Bethany whispered, her heart breaking for the blonde mage. She'd never lost a lover before, but she knew what it was to lose someone you care about. Her father's death had affected her much the same. "Thank you for telling me, it can't be easy for you."

"No, it's good to talk about it. I've never said anything before, except to the Commander, he lost most of his family in the Blight." The Commander was a bit touchy feely for Anders' taste when it came to discussing personal lives. Though he never forced Anders to continue when it was too much. Aedan understood that there were some hurts than never went away. "But lets not spoil this evening with bad memories, night's still young. Next bottle."

~

(9:33) - Wounded Coast

"Wie? Mein Gott..." the shock of seeing the supposed dead mage was enough to send Anders reverting back to the tongue of his homeland. He had barely spoken it in years, only falling away from the common tongue in times of intense stress and panic. Coming face to face with love he had thought lost forever was more than enough to send his mind spinning. He had somehow survived the Blight and made his way across the Waking Sea to the Free Marches. Somehow he had managed to avoid detection in one of the most Templar infested cities in Thedas. There were so many questions that he wanted, no needed to ask. But first he needed to heal him. "What happened? How did Garrett get hurt?" The red head, Aveline, seemed a bit startled at the use of Garrett's first name, but kept her head. 

"I don't know. There were blood mages, but I didn't see what happened." She touched his glistening forehead, "he's so warm, could blood magic do this?" 

"Not on it's own," Anders touched his index and middle finger just under Garrett's jawline to take his pulse. It was racing so fast that the artery was pushing against the skin. He barely needed to touch him for feel it. Anders lifted an eyelid to see the pupil shrunken down to tiny pinpoints. Even when Anders summoned a small wisp of light there was no response. The fever, high pulse, lack of pupil response, and unconsciousness were all symptomatic of poisoning. Whatever had caused the wounds had likely been covered with some kind of poison.

The wound itself was easy to fix, but the poison that had coated the shade’s claws required intense concentration. It had slithered it’s way through Garrett's circulatory system with each heart beat and had started to affect the nervous system before Anders intervened. Normally, a mage would be able to fight off such toxins with little ill effect. But with his mana depleted from the fight, Garrett was just as vulnerable as a person with no magical talent. Like charming a snake, he called the poison with spirit healing and pulled it from the wound. The dark ooze slipped from the cut and pooled onto the dirt. In the air, it faded like smoke. Anders couldn’t help but notice the way the red head clung to Garrett. It stung when he saw her brush sweaty black locks of hair from the unconscious mage’s brow with the same familial gesture one might give a dear sibling.

“I should get back, the Commander gets fidgety when any of us is out of sight too long.” It was a lame excuse, but it worked as Aveline didn’t question it.

“Thank you Warden, you saved his life.” She smiled and looked down Garrett, “if you weren’t here, I don’t want to think about it. He's been as a brother to me.” Anders gave her a watery smile and dropped his eyes. It would appear that Garrett was alive and had moved on with his life. He had grown and changed from the youth he'd once known. Would he even wish to look at Anders? The blonde mage had never felt such a strange mix of joy and misery.

“What else are Wardens for?” He tried to sound glib, but it fell a bit flat. Not that she noticed. He decided to give them a moment of privacy. The first thing Garrett should see when he woke up was a friend.

~

Garrett grumbled as he blinked his eyes open. Maker, it was like someone had been using a pickax to crack open his skull. Then, he sensed it. The echoes of Spirit healing, it had been so long that he had started to forget what it felt like. The gentle, tingling warmth that curled around the core of his being. How had that happened?

“Aveline?” Garrett sat up and instantly regretted it, the nausea came back as blood rushed from his head at the sudden movement. It cleared as he took a deep breath and touched his jaw. The cut was gone. Nothing but closed skin, not even the hint of a scar. “What happened? Why do I sense someone else’s magic?” Apostates were aplenty in the Free Marches, but not all of them had the same peaceful intentions as Garrett. He had learned that the hard way during the first few years in Kirkwall when he had come across a number of blood mages. He'd been forced to kill them in self defense, but it always seemed a waste. Lives tossed away like month old rotten eggs for something that seemed to only bring pain. Though none of the ones he had encountered so far showed any ability to channel Spirit healing.

“Grey Wardens.” Well, that certainly explained it. “Bethany is with them. She seems…grown up.” Garrett nodded, not sure if that was a good or bad thing.

“I’ll have to thank her for the healing.”

“It wasn’t Bethany, there was another mage with the Wardens. I didn’t catch the name though.” Aveline helped Garrett back to his feet. He was still a bit pale from the poison, but the natural ruddiness that marked him as a man of the outdoors was coming back to his cheeks. Aveline recalled now that the other mage had called Hawke by his given name. Besides Leandra and Varric on extremely rare occasion, everyone called the mage Hawke. If that hadn't been strange enough, he had also said something in a tongue that Aveline was not familiar with, but she couldn't exactly remember the words. The constants were harsher than those in the common tongue and a bit more nasal. A greeting perhaps? "Maybe you two know each other? He seemed to recognize you.”

“You do understand that not all mages know each other? Besides,” Garrett said, not bothered that the Warden seemed to know him, “Beth probably mentioned me and Carver. Seeing as I’m not in a metal skirt, can’t be Carver.”

"I suppose, still, I thought it seemed like he had seen you before. Maybe you two were in the Circle together?" Garrett shrugged, if anything being an apostate on the run so long had taught him that anything was possible. Andraste herself could appear before him and dance the Ferelden reel and he wouldn't so much as blink.

"I guess we'll see shortly, Maker, my head hurts. It's almost as bad as when I headed butted that drake." The two made their way back to camp, Garrett joking the whole way about how Guardsmen Donnic would react if he saw Garrett waking up in Aveline's arms. Not that Donnic had anything to worry about, he knew the true nature of their relationship no matter what the gossips in Hightown said. It did make for a few laughs when they would sometimes walk together through the market and everyone would be staring at them.

"I still don't know why you thought it was a good idea to bash heads with a dragon." Aveline sighed with feigned annoyance.

"To be fair, it was drake, not a dragon. For a moment it did look like we were going to die and I thought 'why not put my thick head to use'." Garrett caught her biting her lip to keep from smiling. The ache in his head was fading and he almost felt normal again. It had been a long week dealing with giant spiders and blood mages, he just wanted to go home and sleep on his nice mattress. He caught sight of Fenris waiting for them at the end of the path. The elf was rigid and radiating tension. Dealing blood mages reminded him of his previous life as a slave to magister in Tevinter. Of what all those with magic were potentially capable off, well except perhaps Garrett.

"Hawke," Fenris said with relief as he saw the mage coming towards him, "good to see you on your feet my friend."

"Good to be on them." Garrett clapped the elf heartily on the shoulder to reassure him that all was well. The white haired elf's eyes crinkled at the corners as he let out a hmm of agreement. "The girl? Is she alive?" Garrett had done what he could to prevent her from bleeding out, but a cut throat was usually a death sentence.

"Alive and ready to be taken back to the Chantry sisters." Garrett could barely contain his surprise. He half expected the girl to be gone or a least needing some time to recover. It was then Garrett remembered that they had guests. The Wardens, yes, he must repay them for their timely assist. "The Maker is generous today," he said quietly, almost a prayer of thanks to the distant Creator. He could now hear multiple people speaking just ahead where the campsite was. He recognized Bethany and Varric, and mentally prepped himself for seeing his sister for the first time in a year. Aveline gave his hand a squeeze when she saw his shoulders tense, a silent 'it's alright'. "Right, let's go make friends with the Hero of Ferelden. Sounds fun doesn't?" 

There was a dark haired man waiting for them at the campsite. From his rather nice silverite armor and the laurel insignia that surrounded the griffon engraved on his breastplate, it was easy to discern his identity. The Hero of Ferelden in the flesh. Though, Garrett had to admit, he was a bit shorter than he had imagined. The man was the same height as Garrett, if just a hair shorter. Nor where there any lightning bolts coming from his eyes. Still, he carried himself as a seasoned general who had seen decades of battle and his eyes were deadly sharp even in the night.

"Serah Hawke," Cousland greeted, "we meet at long last." The two men clasped forearms and took a moment to assess the other's grip, "I must admit, I was not expecting such an...exciting introduction."

"Exciting?" Garrett said with a hint of amusement, "you should take a trip to Sundermount. This is just an average day on the coast."

"I think I shall pass, Serah. I'm certain there are several people at the Vigil who would not appreciate me running off into the wilderness again. And the King would be terribly angry at me for not taking him along." Poor Alistair, from the letters he would sometimes send his fellow Warden, did miss the old days. There was much less paperwork back then. At least Anora was more than capable of helping him shoulder the work load.

"Fair point, the joys of duty are many aren't they?"

"Numerous." The Commander's face turned serious then, "I heard from your elven companion that there were blood mages in the area. Is that common in the Free Marches?" 

"Sometimes, I'm afraid. Those these ones are part of a cult that I mistakenly thought destroyed." As much as Garrett hated to consider it, he would probably need to speak with someone in the Gallows to see if there had been further reports of Tarhone's cult. He had dealt with the Knight Captain last time, but was not eager to spend more time with Cullen in case he recognized him from Kinloch Hold.

"I wish you luck Serah, I've seen what blood magic is capable of. I'd give you the Litany of Adralla if I hadn't returned it to the Circle." It was looking over the Hero of Ferelden's shoulder that brought Garrett face to face with his past. Well, if the Maker wasn't in a funny mood. Anders.  

~

They decided not to delay and left for Kirkwall to avoid any other potential blood mages that might be waiting to attack. Dawn was not far off and the sun peaked over the horizon about halfway back to the city. The journey back to Kirkwall was uninterrupted by pirates or bandits or even Tal-Vashoth. By the time the city gates came into view, Garrett had been ready to jump from the high sandstone cliffs and swim across the chilling Waking Sea back to Ferelden. It had not gone well the previous night. He had hoped Bethany would be in an agreeable mood and speak with him, but she had given him the cold shoulder except when there was no choice but to answer. It had gotten worse when he had put on their father's old coat. It was a gray colored, padded affair that was lined with silverite to protect the wearer for blunt force. One of the arms had a single pauldron to protect the shoulder and several plates along the forearm. Along with the two belts and red sash, he wore the spiked metal gauntlets Malcolm had favored during his time with the Red Oars. She tossed him silent angry glares the whole way back. Garrett had just let her have some space and kept to the back with Varric.

Still, it was better than having to deal with...oh, Maker, Anders. Garrett was at a total loss of what to do or say. How did one talk to the person they still carried a torch for even if it would kill them to act on it? Thank the Maker that there were plenty of other people around them so they could avoid the awkwardness.

"How are you holding up Hawke?" Varric asked, noting that his friend was unusually quiet. Garrett was normally quite chatty on outings like this, thriving in the clean air outside the filthy city. Now he might as well ave been in a Chantry service.

"Great, just fantastic, best day of my life." Garrett grumbled as he watched his sister's back. Bethany, he loved her to pieces, but she was frustrating the living daylights out of him. She was talking with one of the other Wardens, Nathaniel Howe, and it must have been hilarious because she was giggling. He considered setting the git's hair on fire, but decided it was probably not a smart idea to do it in front of the Hero of Ferelden. He would probably not like having one of his Wardens permanently disfigured because Garrett lost his temper.

"Clearly," Varric said with as much sarcasm as he could muster, "do all humans grind their teeth so loudly when they're happy?" He shot Varric an annoyed look, but the dwarf wasn't bothered in the slightest. "Don't let it get to you, Sunshine will come round in the end."

"At my funeral? Wonderful, I only have to grow old and die for her to forgive me." Garrett continued to scowl at Howe's back, imagining all the things he would do if the boy made a move on his sister. Most involved setting various bits on fire.

"That's ridiculous, there's no way you're going to live nearly that long." Both let out a laugh at that.

"How's the story end? Do I get eaten by a dragon or ripped in half by a Qunari?" The two ended up concocting about a dozen ways Garrett was certain to die. The morbid game was actually a good, if slightly disturbing distraction from the tension. Varric seemed certain that Garrett would go out with a bang, literally. Garrett preferred to imagine he'd actually live long enough to see gray hairs come in naturally. It would be nice if he were to actually live that long with numerous adventures had and good friends made. As long as he kept himself out of the Gallows, he was free to be the author of his own story.

~

Ahead of the beardless dwarf and apostate mage, Anders and Cousland were walking side by side as they conversed in a low tone. It had not escaped the Commander's notice how the two mages had reacted when seeing each other face to face. Both looked as if they had seen a ghost. Anders had all but shut down since the previous night, barely saying a word to anyone and keeping a distance from Hawke. Cousland wanted answers, especially if this ended up affecting any potential business between himself and Hawke.

"It's him," Anders had finally said after several minutes of uncomfortable silence, "the one I told you about."

"I thought you said he was dead." Cousland prodded, now very curious about the past relationship between the two mages. Anders had mentioned that he had made a mistaken and hurt Hawke, but didn't say what the mistake was. Or if it was possible that Hawke was still holding a grudge. "Looks very much alive to me."

"I was certain, but there was no body...I just assumed. Maker," Anders pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, "he's alive. Garrett is alive." Those were three words he never thought he would say. Not in the waking world anyway. The Commander nodded and made a quick glance over his shoulder at the apostate walking a little behind them. Hawke was tossing Nate's back death glares at every opportunity. Maker, he probably should have left Nate back in Ferelden, but he hadn't been expecting such animosity between the siblings. He would have to speak with Bethany soon and convince her to cool her heels for the time being. If only to protect Nate from being burned alive by Hawke.

"Very much so, and managing to hide as an apostate in Kirkwall of all places. That's impressive, makes me wish I could recruit him, but some people better serve our cause outside the Grey." Anders couldn't argue that. It was better this way, Garrett clearly had established himself in Kirkwall. It would unfair to take it away from him. "You don't seem as happy as I thought you would be. What's wrong?"

"It's nothing." The Commander didn't appear convinced at the blonde's words, "just never expected to actually see him again. It's just strange and different." A weak smile cracked across the mage's face. He had spent may hours wondering about Garrett when he had still been in the Circle. What would he look like? Who were his friends? Did he find his family? Question after question had come and gone and cycled through until it all blended together. Garrett had changed from the mildly timid youth into a broad shouldered, bearded man who looked like he belonged in an adventure novel. As he had once dreamed, those shoulders seemed to carry the very weight of Thedas and hint of sorrow seemed to have made itself a home in his eyes. He had lost a hard won home and a dearly beloved father in the last six years. Garrett was clearly a man who had lived a hard life and didn't expect it to ever get easier. It was heart wrenching.

"Time makes us different people, Anders. For good or ill, we are shaped by the choices we make. We can never know until we've made our decision, but it's better to have attempted something rather than do nothing." Cousland offered, hoping he could give some guidance to the mage. He knew the mage well enough to see that Anders did want to rebuild some form of a relationship with Hawke, no, Garrett. He didn't want fear to keep the mage from acting. Otherwise he would carry regret with him for the rest of his life.  

"And how did you get so wise?" Anders asked, trying to make light of everything around them. Cousland's lips quirked.

"My father was a good teacher. I just wish I had known so when he was still with me."

~

At the city gates, Varric and Aveline went their separate ways. After taking the girl back to the Chantry, Aveline needed to return to the barracks and get back to work. She knew the Seneschal Bran would be waiting for her there, likely trying to give the guards another lecture on 'protocol' when it came to standing at attention in Hightown. She promised to see them all later for a drink at the Hanged Man and gave Bethany a hug before saying goodbye. Varric had to go set up a meeting with someone in the Hanged Man. Apparently he had found someone who was willing to offer security to the miners in the Bone Pit for a reasonable price. Garrett didn't look entirely certain though, as he had a feeling about who Varric had in mind. He had dealt with enough mercenaries in his first year of Kirkwall and wasn't dying to spend more time with them. But for the safety of his workers, he was willing to do what needed to be done. 

Garrett escorted the party back to the Hightown estate. Fenris stayed until they arrived at the main square near the Viscount's Keep before returning to his own little crumbling abode. He escaped the Hightown eyes that were currently focused on the foreign visitors. The Grey Warden uniforms attracted a few looks and whispers, but compared to the metallic skinned giants at the docks they were fairly mundane. As they approached the estate entrance, Bethany commented that the place looked vastly improved even on the outside. When they had first seen it, the place had been falling apart and strangler vines had threatened to destroy the stonework. The slavers who were using the place for it's large cellars had not bothered keeping the upper levels in good condition. One the slavers were gone and the deed to the estate granted by the Viscount's office, Garrett had set about restoring the house to it's former glory. For Garrett it had been a labor of love, as seeing her childhood home regain it's majesty brought tears of joy to his mother's eyes. As they walked into the entry hall, there was a dwarf waiting for them.

"Ahh, the Mistress has been expecting you. Though she didn't say there would be a lot of you." Bethany smiled, she remembered Bodahn from the ill fated Deep Roads trip. He had been such a sweetheart to her. The Commander almost burst out laughing when he saw the merchant once more. He had seen him briefly after the Battle of Denerim, but had no idea what had become of the dwarf or his boy. He would have to get the dwarf to tell him the story of his trip to Kirkwall and how he had run into Hawke's acquaintance. 

"It is good to see you Bodahn, what are you doing here?" 

"I promised to return the favor of your brother finding my boy. And I noticed your lady mother had no proper footman, so I offered my services." Bodahn ushered them into the house proper, all struck by how beautiful the interior was with its fine Orlesian sylvanwood furniture and dwarven masonry with landscape paintings from Antiva and Ferelden. It was as opposite from a slaver den as could be. "Mistress, the Grey Wardens have arrived." A woman popped her head out of a door on the mezzanine overlooking the great hall. Her eyes widened and she let out a happy cry. Leandra hurried down the stairs from her room, her hair still unbound from its customary tie. She had tears streaking down her face as she wrapped her arms around her daughter.

"Oh my sweet girl" she planted a kiss to each cheek, "I didn't know if I'd ever see you again. Thank the Maker for sending you back to me."

"It's good to see you too, Mother." Bethany returned the hug, almost crying herself as she was so happy to see her mother once more. She had missed the warmth and love that Leandra gave so easily and without hesitation to all her children. 

"Oh my, you seem to have brought guests. The Hero of Ferelden no less." Leandra was a bit surprised at the number of guests in their home. She had been expecting three or four, not a small army. Leandra reached up and touched her still unbound hair and realized she had run out with grooming it. "And here I am, not even fit for normal company." Cousland laughed and took her hand to place a chivalrous kiss to it.

"Nonsense, you've opened your home to us my lady. And please, just Aedan, the rest is a bit of a mouthful." Anders rolled his eyes, the Commander could be such a charming little bastard when he wanted. As the Commander made pleasant talk with Leandra, Anders saw Garrett step away to look at a few pieces of correspondence that were awaiting his attention. One letter was stained so badly that Anders could see it from the other side of the room. Garrett took one look and tossed it into the fire. 

"I'm not giving you another copper Uncle," Garrett grabbed an fire iron that was leaning against hearth and gave the log a hard poke. "Lazy git." He had spent a year in indentured servitude because of his Uncle's many debts. He might be able to forgive the man if he showed any shred of decency. The man had crossed the line one night when he had decided it was a smart idea to insult Garrett's father to his face. After calling Malcolm Hawke a scoundrel and going so far to insinuate he had sullied Leandra's virtue, Garrett had punched him so hard his nose broke and he had a huge fist shaped bruise decorating his eye for weeks. They had barely exchanged a word since other than Gamlen pleading for more money to waste at the Blooming Rose. Leandra would sometimes send him a few silvers, but Garrett refused to give him anything beyond the stipend. "Why Mother tolerates you, I'll never know."

"Hello," there was a hand tugging at Anders' robe, a young dwarf with a big smile. "Do you have any salamanders?" Anders just stared for a second, not sure how to respond. The question was just odd. "Salamanders?"

"Uhh..." the dwarf kept giving him that strange, somewhat vacant smile. He held out his hand and asked again. 

"No! Sandal no Salamanders," Garrett was on his feet, "I just fixed the wall, no boom."

"Booom." The dwarf made an sound like an explosion and giggled. Anders had a feeling that the dwarf was not completely right in the head. And a little worried that they were staying in a place where a dwarf could make walls 'boom'. Garrett sighed and reached into a pocket and pulled out a small piece of rock. He handed it over the dwarf, "ooohh, shiny. Pretty." The crisis appeared to be averted as the dwarf lost all interest in the blonde mage, stroking the smooth stone. Garrett usually tried to bring the young dwarf various crafting materials he picked up on his trips outside the city. It seemed to keep the destructive episodes to a minimum.

"Yes, Sandal, go enchant that. Whatever you like, but no boom." The dwarf smiled and started mumbling to himself. He would probably make a cold iron or hale rune from the silverite veined stone. Garrett turned to Anders, momentarily forgetting the tension he had coiled inside as he tried to give the blonde a warning. "Don't give him anything flammable, or scaly. No, actually just don't give him anything." Garrett rubbed the back of his head. It was the first words he had said to the blonde in over 10 years. Not something Varric would have put into one of his stories.

"Or boom?" Anders found the gesture quite cute. "How?"

"No idea. Just seems to happen sometimes. He's...talented." Garrett remembered the frozen ogre from the Deep Roads expedition. He could never figure out how the dwarf had managed that little trick. The only clue was 'not boom'. Still, the dwarf had a talent for enchantment that rivaled the Tranquil and saved Garrett from having to visit the Gallows to purchase new enchantments. "So, joined the Grey Wardens have you? How did that happen?" Garrett asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He had wondered what had become of the blonde for years, suspecting anything from hiding out as a hermit in the Kocari Wilds to living as a free mage in Tevinter.

"Turns out the Commander likes mages and not Templars. The looks on their faces when he conscripted me was priceless." Garrett chuckled, he had a feeling that another escape attempt gone wrong had landed Anders at Cousland's feet. Conscription was one way to avoid being taken back to the Tower. "Kirkwall?"

"Not my idea, I wanted to go to Rivain. But Mother still has family here, so it was off to the Free Marches. Though, it turned out my Uncle had lied and stolen Mother's inheritance, even sold the house to slavers to pay off some debts. You can guess how happy she was when he told her that." Leandra had slapped Gamlen hard enough to leave a red print and unleashed a fury at how he had used her children to pay off his debts. She loved her brother, but she was so ashamed at the same time. At least she had learned her parents had not hated her at the end, leaving her everything and wanting her children to enjoy the same comforts. Garrett wanted to ask more about what had happened since he had left the Tower. There had been whispers of strange things happening in the Tower during the Blight, rumors of coups and abominations, but nothing concrete. He wanted to know about the life the other mage currently led, being a Grey Warden surely meant there were more than a few good stories to be shared. Before he could ask more they were interrupted by Bodahn.

"Messer, there's a Ser Thrask asking to speak with you, he says it is important." Garrett was a bit surprised, he hadn't spoken with Thrask since he had told him about his daughter Olivia's death. The Templar seemed to be a more tolerant member of the Order than Garrett had expected to find in Kirkwall. He wasn't exactly in the mood to speak with the Templar, but it was wise to stay on good terms with him. There would be time to catch up with Anders later, he hoped. 

"I better see what he wants then." He gave the blonde an apologetic look, "sorry, but I should speak with Thrask. Perhaps you can tell me more about the Grey Wardens later?"

"If you tell me how an apostate avoids detection in Kirkwall." Garrett laughed and nodded.

"Deal. Though I can promise it's not nearly that interesting." Anders watched the dark haired mage grab his staff and head out to speak with Ser Thrask. Perhaps it was a bit premature to let hope for...something take root in his heart again. After all, once the Wardens business here was concluded, it was back to Ferelden for Anders while Garrett stayed in Kirkwall. Still, just to speak with him, to hear his laugh and see the deep ocean blue of his eyes was more than he could have ever dared to dream. 

 

Translation

Wie? Mein Gott  - How? My Maker (God)


	8. That Things with Feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Varric begins to play matchmaker and rumors of slavers call for action. Our heroes both recognize the torches they still carry, but need the right push to act. Sometimes that comes in the form of snarky dwarves and flirty pirates.  
> Suggested music is 'Here and Now' by Seether.

_“Hope” is the thing with feathers -_  
_That perches in the soul -_  
_And sings the tune without the words -_  
_And never stops - at all –_

\- Emily Dickinson, 1861

Just outside the door there was a red bearded man in full Templar armor. Garrett had met him once before during his second year living in Kirkwall when looking for Feynriel after the boy ran away from home to avoid the Gallows. He had also discovered the truth about Thrask's daughter Olivia. The poor girl was a mage who had spent most of her short life in hiding. One of the slavers, a man named Reiner, had attempted to force himself on her, but in her desperation and panic the girl had succumbed to demon possession. Garrett had been forced to slay her and found a farewell letter to her beloved father in on the body. He ended up keeping quiet about the poor girl and let her father mourn her without fear of blackmail. He could not being himself to reveal the truth about his own magic to Thrask despite the man's odd compassion for his mage charges and the way he had kept his own child free. It was just too much of a risk.

"Ser Thrask," Garrett greeted him with a pleasant smile, "I hear you have something important to tell me."

"I do Serah. Would you walk with me a moment? I must return to the Gallows, but I wished to ask you a few questions before I take the ferry." Garrett nodded and the two men made their way down to the small docks between the city and the little island the Gallows was located on. "I was escorting one of the sisters back to the Chantry when I saw the Guard Captain return with one of the Chantry orphans and heard about your encounter with a group of blood mages. The child seemed shaken, but the sisters have assured me she will recover with time. Can you tell me what happened that night? The Knight Commander has grown more frustrated with increased incidents of apostate blood mages and I would prefer to tell her in person rather than her find out through gossip."

"They were after me," Garrett said, trying to tell as much as the truth as he could, "I killed the group's leader a year ago. You remember the recruits that went missing?" The Templar nodded, "their leader Tarhone wanted to use them to create chaos in your ranks as they turned into abominations. I was able to stop her before she could do the same to Keran. I thought the cult died with her, but they might still be out there."

"Well, it seems the Order will have to remain vigilant until we know more. It would be a terrible shame if more people were sacrificed to another group's madness." Garrett couldn't agree more. These lunatics had shown they were not above killing children to obtain their end goal. That just made him sick.

"I'll keep my ear to the ground and let you know if I hear anything. Varric or his contacts might know something." The dwarf was a mutual friend of both. Sometimes the dwarf would even have the Templar drop by for a drink and a round of cards. In Varric's opinion, the Templar was an honorable man if a mediocre card player. 

"I would appreciate that, thank you." They arrived to find the ferry getting ready to dock and let a small group of passengers disembark. The ferry captain and his crew of two young men busied themselves with tying the boat up and assisting some of the passengers with their parcels. "Your brother has proved himself a wonderful addition to the Order. He shows his charges the understanding so many of our brothers have lost. You should be proud of him Serah."

"Thank you, and I am. I'm glad to see he is finding himself. It has not been easy for him since we left Lothering." The Templar gave him an understanding look. Carver had been a bit lost since he had been forced to retreat from Ostagar. In the King's army, he had begun to distinguish himself amongst his peers and even had the makings of a career military man. The dreams of independently establishing himself as something beyond Hawke's little brother were shattered. In Kirkwall, the resentment had steadily built as he felt himself becoming forgotten in his brother's shadow. The only thing he could do was either attempt join the city guard or the Templars. The guard rejected him because of his attitude, so it left only one option. Garrett had been furious when he had returned from the Deep Roads to find his brother wearing the Templar recruit uniform. Carver and he had said a number of less than kind things to each other, culminating in their mother nearly breaking down in tears and Garrett retreating to the Coast as he feared the Order coming for him. He had only returned when he received a note from Leandra begging him to come home and make peace with Carver. He had done as his mother asked, even apologizing to his brother for his rash thinking. It had left a tense, but firm understanding between the brothers. Carver might be a Templar, but he would never betray his own flesh and blood. 

"Yes, Kirkwall is not a good place for outsiders. I'm sad to say it's not likely to get any better so long as the Viscount remains silent on the abuse of refugees." Thrask himself was not from the city and still found himself at odds with those born and raised there. There was a certain arrogance that Free Marchers tended to carry towards those from other countries or even other cities. The Blight refugees had been forced to live on the fringes of the city, many in the abandoned sewers of Darktown. As loath as Garrett was to admit it, if not for Gamlen, that could have his fate too. Work was still hard to come by even as many returned to their homeland and the city still required cheap labor. "The Maker sent the Fereldens a champion in you Serah."

"I do what I can. Hubert fights me at almost every turn, but he usually comes round since he doesn't want them to quit again." Hubert was as stingy as they came. Hopefully he would be so excited about meeting the Hero of Ferelden that he would forget his miserly nature for a brief moment to work out a fair deal. If not, Garrett would have to work around the Orlesian's back. 

"It is enough to recognize their dignity and give it proper due. Too few in this world are capable of such kindness." There was the sound of the whistle indicating that the ferry was soon to depart. There weren't many on the small boat headed to the Gallows, just a few people who were going to purchase the wares the Tranquil provided the public. Ser Thrask shook his hand, "I will be in touch. Maker smile on you Serah, and keep you safe."

"And you, Ser Thrask." Garrett wondered if Varric would be able to find anything on this cult. They had escaped Garrett's notice for a year and now seemed dead set on killing him in revenge for Tarhone. Maker, what a mess. He would need a stiff drink before the day was done. 

Garrett took his time walking back to the estate to consider the numerous things that vied for attention in his mind. The blood mages calling for his head was high up, but not his top priority. There just too many people who had tried, unsuccessfully, to kill him over the last few years. He'd deal with them in the end one way or another. No, what kept his feet slow was the guests in his house. Specifically, Anders and Bethany. His sister, he didn't know what to do about other than give her space. If she wanted to make nice, then they could go a step further. Until then, he was going to handle it like one handles a live bomb.

As for Anders, he had absolutely no idea. What was considered normal for interacting with one's old flame? He didn't carry a grudge against him for past behaviors, but he wasn't about to propose running off into the sunset either. His heart had nearly skipped right out of his chest when they had just made idle conversation. When he had seen those gorgeous honey eyes light up with humor. Maker, it brought all those old feelings of longing right back. He'd tried to put them away in a dusty, locked box in the back corner of his heart, but the box had been kicked open with one look. "Maker," Garrett's hand came up to grasp the front of his coat as he felt his heart speed up as thoughts of the other mage threatened to drown him. Those lovely eyes glinting with a laugh, the red gold hair that shone with health, the warm tan the other mage had acquired from being outside so much, and so on until he felt his chest ready to explode. He stepped into one of the small side streets and leaned back against the cool shaded stone. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply to slow his heart rate. He let out a bitter laugh. "Showing me what I can never have, Maker you are cruel sometimes."

~    

Garrett had returned some time later to the estate after making a few inquiries about the recent activities of any maleficarum. A member of the mage underground, Mistress Selby thought she had heard rumors of the cult still functioning in some of the older parts of Darktown, but nothing concrete. It would take a few days for her people to know more, but it was a start. He returned that afternoon and invited everyone out for a drink. First round was on Varric, so though it was bad, it was free. He still had a few things to take care, including a delivery of food to Lirene's refugee center before he could join them.

The Hanged Man was very much like any of the other dingy, alcohol soaked taverns that Anders had visited during his many escape attempts. There was even the same smell of old beer, straw, sweat, and urine that permeated every seedy bar in Thedas. But despite the mild odor, it was actually rather nice. The patrons were loud and had absolutely no problem with invading personal space, but were a friendly lot that were more than happy to see the Hero of Ferelden walk through the door. At least six toasts were raised to his name in the first five minutes. Aedan Cousland spent quite a bit of time shaking hands and speaking with patrons who were Ferelden refugees hoping to return to their home. They were grateful for all he had done during the Blight and helping to crown the new king. To have such an accomplished hero, a living legend, made them proud to be Ferelden. 

Garrett arrived later than the Wardens and appeared to be a bit distracted. Anders had been sitting with Bethany and Nate when he saw the other mage finally pass through the door. He was focused on something as he didn't even bother to acknowledge the Wardens or any of his friends. He stopped scanning the crowd and made his way to the bar. There, standing alone was a hooded man dressed in black leather and silverite armor. When Garrett came up to him, the man pushed back the hood he had been wearing to reveal a tanned face that had smile lines at the corners of the eyes and short cut dark hair threaded with silver at the temples. The people at the bar clearly knew who this man was and were giving him a healthy amount of space. 

"Maker, not him." Aveline had taken a seat with them after getting a mug of Corff's coldest ale. She was off duty, wearing only a simple tunic and pants, but her sword was still strapped across her back. Her eyes narrowed at the man in the leather armor. 

"Not a friend of yours?" Anders asked, taking a hesitant drink from the slightly warm 'whiskey' the bartender had served him. Maker, it tasted like swill, but the burn of the alcohol was a pleasant distraction from mooning at the other mage. Aveline shook her head and drank down half of her ale in one gulp. 

"That's Johann, leader of the Company of Freemen. He came during the Blight and never left. Can't get rid of him either, he keeps the various gangs from turning Lowtown into a war zone." The mercenary had ended up buying the last six months of Garrett’s contract from Meeran when the other decided he could make a pretty penny turning the apostate into the Gallows. Meeran had grown tired of the competition with other groups and wanted a larger piece of the pie. Upon hearing about the reward the Knight Commander was offering for the capture of any apostates, greed had gotten the better of Meeran. This resulted in the Hawke siblings having to fight for their lives against their former employers. They would have been killed if Johann and his two lieutenants hadn't been close by. Apparently he had overheard what Meeran was planning to do and was disgusted. The mercenary lord was a criminal, but he would never turn on his own people. All Johann had to do was unsheathe a single knife and Meeran surrendered. The scumball loved his own hide too much to risk getting sliced and diced. Johann had bought their contracts and for the remainder of the year they had worked for the Freemen. Since then both Garrett and Johann had profited from various ventures, though most of Johann's were from less legal ones. Still, the man didn't profit from slavery or turning in apostates.  That had to count for something in the eyes of the Maker.

~

"Johann," Garrett said to the mercenary, "Varric tells me you might be interested in letting us hire some of your people for security at the Bone Pit. I wasn't aware you were branching out." The mercenary gave him a smile that looked more like it belonged a large jungle cat rather than a human. It made Garrett's stomach churn with nervousness as he felt the part of prey in this man's presence. 

"We've put down roots here since the Blight," Johann replied with nonchalance, "several of the men have married and even had children here. Might as well find another way to bring in business if we're going to be here on a permanent basis. Besides, I have a soft spot for underdogs. Your miners certainly fit that description." The mercenary's company had been forced to land in Kirkwall during the Blight. They had been originally hired by Cailan to fight at Ostagar, but had been delayed by weather and then turned back at the borders by Loghain's people. Unable to go south, they had headed east and ended up in Kirkwall. There had been intermittent work outside the Free Marches for them as wealthy merchants wanted their caravans protected or small skirmishes between land owners in Antiva who didn't want to hire Crows, but for the most part they had stayed in Kirkwall.

"How much?" Garrett had brought what he hoped was enough gold to convince the mercenary to take the assignment without further negotiations. The mercenary actually laughed at him when he asked.

"Hawke, I don't want your money. I want you to do something for me, and no, it won't violate your honorable codes about innocents." Johann was generally a right bastard, but he did share Garrett's opinions about innocents. Women and children were off limits and those that broke his rule were killed or punished to the point that death seemed ideal. "I've been getting reports of slavers outside the city. Most likely they'll attempt to capture members of that Dalish clan near Sundermount."

"What do you want me to do about it?" Garrett asked, leaning back against the bar. He knew that slavers were sometimes a problem around or even in the tunnels under the city. It was one of the hazards of living close to the Tevinter Imperium. As slavery had been outlawed by every other nation but Tevinter, the slavers would often kidnap those society would not miss. Mainly those living in the slums or Alienages. 

"Whatever you want. Scare them, kill them, make them wear dresses and dance a waltz, it doesn't matter to me so long as they are no longer a problem." Johann shrugged as he ordered two shots of Corff's special brew. He took one of the slightly less filthy glasses and handed it to Garrett. Garrett eyed the glass, Corff must have tried to polish it up just to avoid getting stabbed by an irritable mercenary. "You do this, and we're in business. Now, I suggest you enjoy this drink, because it might be the last one you get for a while." The mercenary gave him a knowing look with those odd grey-green eyes of his, "a storm is coming Hawke, I can feel in my teeth. Between the Templars and the Qunari, something is about to happen and it's going to be bad. Batten down the hatches while you can." They both tossed back the fiery concoction, Garrett coughing a bit as it went down. "Maker keep you safe, it'd be a shame to find your corpse."

"Thanks," Garrett said, not sure if the mercenary was being sarcastic or it would actually be shame to find his dead body. Sell-swords were notorious for switching loyalties when the coin ran out, but then again Johann wasn't asking for gold. The mercenary gave him a hard clap on the shoulder as he left, trailed by a huge mountain of man with cropped red hair that served as both bodyguard and right hand. For a man so large, he moved with unnatural silence and grace. Garrett hadn't even noticed him until he was almost on top of him. Corff put a mug of ale in front of him and just walked away not asking for a copper. Clearly, he had the look of a man needing to get drunk. He sat down heavily on a rough wooden bar stool and let the sludge slide down his throat.

"Hello sweet thing," Isabela sidled up to him on the bar stool next to his and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. She rested her chin on his shoulder and pressed a friendly kiss to his bearded cheek.

"Bela," Garrett laughed, pulling her into a proper hug, "I was wondering when I'd see you. Any luck on the relic? Or just more old boots?" She gave him a light punch to the arm. The last time he had helped her with the never ending quest it had led to an abandoned warehouse full of boxes with nothing but worn out boots. He was never going to let her forget it either.

"So mean today, and here I thought having so many attractive house guests would put you in a fantastic mood." She winked at him. Isabela was aware that Garrett was attracted to both men and women, though he usually preferred the latter. They often flirted with each other, but it never went beyond that. They were just friends and content to stay that way. "Hold on, I know some of those people. Isn't that the Hero of Ferelden?" Isabela craned her head to get a better look, "oh, it is! Has he shown you his tattoo yet?"

"No, and how do you know...never mind." Garrett shook his head, he should have known. She had mentioned being at the Pearl during the Blight and meeting a Warden. Just failed to mention that it was the most famous one in Thedas. She crooked her arm in his and leaned in to speak louder over the din. 

"Hawke, you lucky bastard, I'm jealous. Think we can convince them to play a few rounds of Strip Diamond Back?"

~

"Is that? Isabela?" Anders and the Commander recognized the pirate at the bar. Both giving each other looks as they realized why the other recognized the dark skinned beauty. Aveline just rolled her eyes and groaned.

"Is there anyone here besides me and Hawke the slattern hasn’t slept with?" Bethany just giggled as the men at the table, except Nate, all turned red. Aveline just sighed with annoyance. Anders couldn’t help but stare at the two. Isabela had all but crawled on top of the other mage and was playing with the thick hair at the nape of his neck. He had to fight the urge to set the woman on fire. It had been so long since he felt real jealousy towards another person. To envy simple freedom freedoms was one thing, but to see another fawning over his heart’s desire stirred up an angry heat in his gut. “She is persistent, I’ll give her that.”

“Still?” Bethany asked. She had seen how Isabela had tried to get her brother to make the beast with two backs for almost a year. Garrett always declined though, he just couldn’t get involved in something that was only about physical pleasure. He was the type that got emotionally invested and ended up burned. Aveline was about to comment when Isabela sauntered over.

“I remember you,” she said with a laugh, “and you, I see you both survived the Blight. How lovely. Where’s your sweet bard?”

“In Orlais for the moment.” Cousland replied, with a wistful look. He really did miss Leiliana, but her devotion to the Maker and the Divine was part of what he loved about her. She would hopefully be able to visit soon once he had returned to Amaranthine. It had been months since they had last spoken face to face. “It seems you also survived.”

“I crashed actually. My _Siren_ is at the bottom of the sea and Kirkwall was the closest port I could get too.” Isabela sat down and let out a dramatic sigh, “so here I am, in this wonderful rat hole. At least the whiskey is cheap.”

“And rat flavored.” Anders made a sour face as he finished his. How did whiskey even come to taste like rodents? “Makes me miss the Crown and Lion, at least it tastes like whiskey there.” Cousland gave an emphatic nod of agreement. He couldn’t stomach too much more of the swill all the patrons insisted on buying him.

“It’s part of the charm,” Isabela insisted, “anyone up for game of Diamond Back in Varric’s room? Varric usually keeps some of the good stuff just in case.” That was all they needed to hear as the group migrated up to the dwarf’s large suite. “Hawke, get a move on,” Isabela shouted over her shoulder, “and bring Kitten with you.” Garrett was talking to two elven ladies with Dalish facial tattoos. He waved a hand in acknowledgement, but kept talking the two women. He seemed especially keen on speaking with the red headed woman, giving her his full attention and consideration.

“Must have another letter for Hawke to give Feynriel,” Varric commented as Anders couldn’t help but watch Garrett. He had noticed the way the Warden was looking at Garrett every chance he got. The puppy eyes were so sweet it was almost too much for even Varric who loved to pen the overly dramatic declarations of undying adoration.

“Feynriel?” Anders asked.

“A half human apostate that Hawke saved from some slavers a few yeas back. Lives with his mother’s Dalish clan now. Hawke likes to check in on him whenever he’s in the area, has a real soft spot for the kid.” Garrett had taken the teenager under his wing and tried to offer guidance when he could. He knew the life of an apostate was a hard one, and often a lonely one. Being an elf blood human amongst the Dalish was even lonelier.

“Sounds like Garrett,” Anders said with a quirk of his lips. “Always was good with the youngest apprentices at the Circle.” It was nice to see that some things remained the same.

“Really?” Varric asked, now sounding intrigued, “Hawke never talks about the Circle. Not to me anyway, Aveline sometimes if they’re both deep enough in their cups. Care to tell me more?”

“Might need to get me another drink or two, Circle life is not exactly a topic I prefer discussing sober.” The dwarf gave him a smirk and promised that there was plenty for him to whet his whistle with. The dwarf was certain that the two mages had a history together and was determined to find out the details. Varric needed to write an origin for his favorite character and he finally found someone who could help flesh out Hawke’s early years. There was no way he going to pass that up.

~

“You really don’t mind?” Arianni asked again as Garrett tucked the letter away. She had just written her son another letter and had been hoping to find someone that wouldn’t mind delivering it. Garrett had offered because he had feeling that he would need to begin his search for the slavers not far from the Dalish camp. It was also a good opportunity to see how the other apostate was doing. He had been doing well in his studies with the Keeper, but had been appearing more and more worn down each time he saw the boy. He had hoped the Keeper could help Feynriel with his nightmares, as demon plagued dreams were something of a rite of passage that all mafes endured. But, she too had begun to look more tired at each visit. It was…troubling. He needed to see if there was more to it than the average mage dream.

“Not at all Mistress,” Garrett smiled at the tiny woman, “I always enjoy seeing Feynriel and his progress. He has much potential as long as he dedicates himself to his studies. You should feel proud.” Arianni was a somber person, but hearing such praise of her most treasured person was enough to brighten her face. “Perhaps you should visit? I know he misses you.”

“I would like to, Serah, but I do not feel as though the clan would accept me back.” It was hard for her to be so far and yet so close to her only child. “I must be going Serah, thank you once more for everything you’ve done for my Feynriel.”

“Of course, you have a pleasant evening.” He had offered to walk her back to the Alienage as the sun was going down, but she had a small group of friends waiting outside for her so it was safe. He turned to Merrill, “shall we join the party?”

“There’s a party?” Merrill asked, “is it a special occasion today? Wait, it’s not your nameday is it?”

“No,” Garrett reassured the elven mage. She was such a sweetheart, even if she was dabbling in blood magic. “Don’t worry Merrill, my nameday is still a ways off, thank the Maker. Unless I’m even more ancient than I thought.”

“But you’re not old, I’m older than you.” Garrett couldn’t help but laugh. Her small size and child-like demeanor often made him see her as much younger sister or close cousin, “I’m serious!”

“I know, I know. Want to meet a celebrity?”

 


	9. To Sing the Stories of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes begin to rebuild the bridge between them, with a helpful nudge from everyone's favorite dwarf. There are a couple of suggested songs.  
> Samson - Regina Spektor (Tavern Scene)  
> Constellations - Jack Johnson (Camping Scene)  
> Mage Pride - Inon Zur (Tevinter slaver scene)

_In dreams, I descended to the River of Souls_

_All about me I heard the song of the Elder Ones._

_My sole companion, the hooded ferrymen_

_He spoke naught a word nor offered wisdom._

_Then, as the distant shore came to view, He Called_

_Lord of Silence, His blood he offered His servant._

_The ferrymen offered the Cup of Life_

_I drank deep and was filled with His Fire_

_Before I woke, I saw the ferryman's face_

_My Own._

_(-1208 Ancient)_

Excerpt from the Journals of Darinius, first of the Archons

 

Garrett didn't stick around long for the card game. He made sure that everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves before he quietly took his leave. He did speak to Varric to let him know that he spoken with Johann and would need to get a move on finding those slavers. The dwarf assured him that they could head out in the next few days and suggested that they take Fenris with them. Slaughtering slavers was a surefire way to put the broody elf into a good mood. He was still tired from his trip out to the mine and the skirmish from the blood mages.

He managed to sneak out just as Isabela was shuffling her cards for a round of Diamond Back. Not the kind that involved the removal of clothes, as the pirate was oddly protective of Merrill's naivety when it came to carnal matters. He smiled as even through the wooden door he could hear the party. Perhaps he would join them another night, but he was barely able to stay on his feet as it was. The walk back to the estate was uneventful and in no time he was walking through the quiet entry hall. His mabari had been sitting by the hearth waiting for him and nearly bowled him over with enthusiastic kisses.

"Hello boy, you missed me?" The dog barked and shook it's stubby tail, "I know, missed you too." He wrapped his arms around the mabari's muscled neck and got another enthusiastic lick on the cheek. He had raised Archon since he was a puppy just barely big enough to fit in his hands. The dog always seemed to sense how he was feeling. Archon tapped his wet nose to Garrett's neck and snuffled. "Yes, in a minute I just need to go through some letters."  

~

Garrett had intended to only rest his eyes for a moment or two before heading up to bed. He had read through some of the correspondence that had been waiting for him in the study. Nothing terribly important, but it was good to be sure. The letters had started to meld together and he knew he had to close his eyes for a minute. He ended up falling asleep in on the couch in the study. The soft, yet firm cushions in combination with the cheerful warmth from the small fire in the hearth was enough to push him over the edge into sleep. His mabari had crawled up on the couch and was resting partially on top of him. Being used to sharing a bed with his dog, Garrett had barely stirred when the animal the size of a pony had cuddled up against him. The dog lifted it's head when the study door opened. It huffed as it saw the intruder was no danger to it's master and lay it's head back down on Garrett's chest. 

The only reason Anders had gone into the study was to see if Sigrun was still awake. The dwarf had declined the offer to join the rest of the party at the tavern. She had gotten one glimpse of the library and had fallen in love with it. She had been thumbing through a novel about a haughty Orlesian knight with great eagerness that last time Anders had seen her. The Commander had already retired and the two remaining Wardens were still making doe eyes at each in the tavern, so it feel to Anders to check on her. Expecting to find the dwarf devouring Garrett's admittedly impressive collection, he was surprised to find not a former member of the Legion of the Dead, but a sleeping mage. The mabari gave him an oddly intelligent look at him, wet brown eyes watching the blonde's every move.

There was the temptation to make a smart remark at the dog, but he didn't want to disturb the man lying on the couch. Garrett looked so peaceful as he continued to sleep with the embers of the hearth sharpening the contrasts of his strong, angular face. The slight roundness that had filled his face earlier days had melted away to leave behind high cheekbones and strong chin. His previously smooth face now sported a neatly groomed boxed beard that was the same midnight black as the rest of his hair. Now having met his mother, Anders could see that he did not take after her in terms of physical appearance. Bethany was clearly her mother's child, the same delicate chin and eyes with hints of amber in them. The dark hair the siblings both had was about the only trait they shared, though Bethany's was closer to mahogany than black.

He probably could have spent the whole night watching the other mage and comparing what he had known in the Tower to the present in Kirkwall. There was a decade of Garrett's life that had passed without Anders in it. A decade of joy and pain, of lose and triumph. That had left marks both physical and spiritual. It had been no different for Anders. With both being closer to thirty than twenty, it was odd how their lives could be split neatly down the middle marking the halves they had spent together and apart.

Not wishing to disturb the scene any further, Anders closed the door to the study with a whisper of 'schlaf gut mein herz.'

~

Varric had somehow managed to wring out as much detail about Garrett's past in the Circle from Anders. With deceptively strong ale, he had coxed the mage into admitting feelings for Garrett that went beyond friendly. At first it was like ripping teeth out of a grumpy bronto, Anders holding back as much as he could. A few pints later, the mage finally admitted the source of his own personal brand of masochism. The poor sod was still carrying a torch for Hawke. And if the glances he had managed to catch Hawke tossing Blondie's way were any indication, the feeling was mutual. 

Initially, Varric had only wanted to get some information about his favorite human's time in the Circle. Hawke clung to his privacy more than Chantry sister did to her virtue. He didn't like talking about it and even admitted to not telling his younger siblings the truth about his time away as a child. When he had finally returned home, Malcolm had decided to spare his youngest children the fear of being taken away by telling them that Garrett had been away for the last decade as an apprentice to a member of the Mage's Collective. Leandra had not approved, but had gone along with it once Bethany had started to come into her talents. Garrett had just wanted to move on with his life, so he let his Father tell people whatever he felt was best. It had been months before he told Varric the bare bones version of his escape and the dwarf had been keen to know more ever since.

The dwarf decided that since his fictional hero needed some resolution, the real version would benefit too. So, he began to make a plan. While the next few days were filled with meetings and negotiations between the Hero of Ferelden, Garrett, and Hubert, Varric started to plan the small trip they would need to undertake to deal with the slavers. His sources told him that there was a small army of Tevinter hunters that were using some of the old tunnels and caves in the Vinmarks as a base. They would need more people to come along on the expedition to deal with the problem. Normally, they didn't need to be in a party larger than four, but if there were Tevinter slavers around there was a god chance they had brought magical backup.

Garrett was pouring over the maps in Varric's suite at the Hanged Man when the dwarf suggested that they bring along another mage. Garrett thought he meant Merrill, as they often brought her along when they had to pass through the forests of Sundermount.

"Daisy may know mushrooms, but she's no good with healing. In fact, you're both terrible." Varric commented without looking up from the table, pretending to be intently focused on a map of the southern peaks. Garrett snorted at him, "you know I'm right. Didn't you pass out once trying to fix a cut?"

"That was just once." The dwarf snorted and shook his head at the human's stubbornness. "I learned my lesson, that's why I always bring extra potions." He raised an eyebrow in suspicion, "you're plotting something aren't you?"

"What? Me? What would ever make you think that?" The mage just gave him a deadpan stare. "Hawke, has anyone ever told you're paranoid?"

"You knows it's not paranoia when it's justified. Besides, better a touch paranoid than face down in a ditch." Apostates tended to stay alive and free because of said paranoia. The Templars may not have had a phylactery to use, but rumors could be just as lethal. 

"Fair point, but I like being prepared. We'll be too far from the city to get back in time if something goes wrong." Garrett sighed and gave in. If Varric wanted to bring more people along on this little adventure, he wasn't going to stop him. "You'll thank me later when you get stabbed again."

~

It didn't take much for Varric to persuade Cousland to lend them one of his mages for their expedition. Apparently the Warden also knew about Hawke and Blondie. The Warden was quite the romantic at heart Varric learned. He wanted his friend to be happy and thought that getting the mages to work together might be just the push they needed.

The Commander had sent Anders to the Hanged Man with a note for Varric. He said that it contained information on some smugglers that had originally been located in Amaranthine but had relocated to Kirkwall. In reality, the note was blank and Varric had begun to set his own plans in motion. He had managed to get a few details out of a reluctant Aveline about Garrett's time in the Tower. From what he could gather, Garrett was also still carrying a torch. Now they both just needed to admit to it.

Around midday the Warden arrived at the Hanged Man. He was still a bit on edge from seeing Garrett again after all these years. He was happy for the younger man. Garrett had worked hard to get to where he was and deserved only the best. He just hoped it didn't include shacking up with a Rivaini pirate. Isabela was great fun, as both Anders and Cousland knew from personal experience, but not the settling down type. It would only lead to more heart ache for Garrett who was clearly the monogamous type. 

He found the place to be mostly empty other than a few bar flies. He climbed the stairs to the second floor where Varric's suite was, prepared to give the dwarf the Commander's note. The door was locked so he gave a loud knock. A few seconds later, Anders heard someone turning the door knob. 

"Easy there Blondie, no need to break the door" the dwarf opened the door and ushered him inside. Leaning against the wall near the hearth was a tall, solidly built man in dark leather and silverite scale armor. The fire pronounced the gray that had started to fleck his short dark hair, though it made him appear regal rather than old. His skin was a warm olive tone and the corners of his mouth and eyes were showing the beginnings of sun hardened smile lines. The man gave a knife sharp grin that made Anders think of a hungry wolf. It was the same mercenary that Garrett had been speaking to. 

"Making friends in all the right places I see" Now that he could actually hear the man he could tell Johann had only the faintest hint of an accent, Rivaini perhaps. Otherwise, he sounded just like any other upper class Marcher.

"What can I say Johann, I'm a popular man." Johann just smirked. "I'll pass along the information to Hawke next time I see him. Give Nomi my best."

"She'll be delighted to hear that. Maker smile on you, Varric." The man strode out of the room, his previously unseen mountain of a bodyguard just a few steps behind him. It amazed Anders that such a large man had escaped his notice until now. He must be one of the many assassins that prowled the city, Anders reasoned to himself. Cousland had mentioned that a number of gangs had taken hold of the city, especially around the docks and more rundown sections of Lowtown. The Silent Sisters, the Crimson Oars, the Red Iron, the Undercuts, the Followers of She, and that was only a few of them.

"Sorry for interrupting," the dwarf held up a hand to stop him.

"Don't worry about it, I only need so much face time with the leader of the Freemen." Anders could understand that. They were one of the most feared gangs in Thedas, even rivaling the Raiders in ferocity. He must have gone a bit white at the idea of being so close to such a dangerous man because the dwarf was patting him on the arm, "no need to panic, Johann respects your order. Don't tell anyone, but he has a big soft spot for dogs and anything remotely resembling a kicked puppy." A mercenary king who loved puppies. Sadly, this was no longer strange enough to even raise an eyebrow. Maker, Anders' view of normal was just too skewed anymore. "That's why he's so fond of Hawke, the kid can put on a set of puppy eyes that would melt even Knight Captain Meredith's heart, if she had one."

"Wait, Garrett is friends with him? He's no mercenary."

"Not anymore, but when he first came to Kirkwall, it was be a mercenary or be sent back to the Blight. It's actually quite the story, if you've got the time to hear it." Something in Anders fluttered a bit. Hear a story about Garrett's exploits in the last few years? Of course, he was dying to know everything that had happened since the mageling had escaped the tower. "So where to begin…" According to Varric upon first arriving to Kirkwall Garrett and his siblings were sold out to Meeran of the Red Iron gang to pay off their uncle's gambling debts. They only spent about half a year with the gang before Meeran had threatened to turn the two mages into the Chantry. He had grown tired of nibbling at the scraps of the other gangs in the city and wanted the large reward the Templars were offering for an apostate. This resulted in the siblings having to fight for their lives against their former employers. They would have been killed if Johann and his two lieutenants hadn't been close by. Apparently he had overheard what Meeran was planning to do and was disgusted. Johann had bought their contracts and for the remainder of the year they had worked for the Freemen. Since then both Garrett and Johann had profited from various ventures, though most of Johann's were from less legal ones. Still, the man didn't profit from slavery or turning in apostates. In the end he was just the best of a particular brand of bad.

"I still can't imagine Garrett working as a mercenary. Doesn't go together at all with what I remember from the Circle." The two men had started drinking about half way through the story, as it took quite a while to tell everything. And Varric may have stretched it out a bit to include all the details.

"Never said he enjoyed the work, but he did what he needed to survive. Hawke's good at that." Anders silently nodded in agreement. "So, Blondie, you mind telling me what happened with the two of you? The soppy eyes are almost too much even for me." The blonde stared down into his half empty mug, not really wishing to divulge everything to this relative stranger.

"It's complicated."

"So is learning to out cheat Rivaini at Wicked Grace, but that doesn't stop anyone from trying." Varric wasn't going to let him out of the bar without a proper answer. Frustrated with himself and the dwarf, Anders ran a nervous hand through his hair, not sure what to say. That he was a terrible human being that had hurt the one person he'd ever truly loved, it was likely the dwarf already had his suspicions that. "Take your time Blondie, the world's not ending just yet."

"You already know we spent time together in the Circle, but you don't know the whole story" The dwarf nodded, "I wasn't a very good person, still not really, but I wanted to be when Garrett was around. I hated the Circle, but he made it bearable. I used to escape a lot before he left, but I never really wanted to leave, not if he was still there. I loved him, Maker help me, but I couldn't tell him. What if the Templars found out?" Anders rubbed his eyes as they began to sting from tears. "They'd send him away or make one of us Tranquil. So I fooled around, played the part of the promiscuous playboy and acted as if it didn't matter." Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. Maker, when was the last time he had actually cried? He hadn't done it in years. Not since Lothering, not since he had been convinced his love was dead. "But it cost me everything. I hurt him worse than any Templar, I broke him. I made the worst mistake of my life and he left the Circle, left me. He's been distant since I got here and it's all my doing."

"Don't put all the blame on yourself Blondie. You've definitely got a hand in the matter, but it's not just you. Hawke's not had it easy the last few years, lost his father to  wasting sickness right before the Blight. Take it that Sunshine and Little Hawke didn't take it too well. May have even blamed big brother a bit." Anders snorted. That was stupid, the wasting sickness was not treatable with magic, it just slowed the inevitable. "I thought the same thing, but doesn't matter. Hawke's got a big time hero complex, wants to rescue the whole world from itself. Makes it especially hard on him when he can't save someone he loves."

"He was always trying to make people happy in the Circle. He used to let Aeryn and I share his bunk whenever one of us had a nightmare." The cherished memories of holding his love close, feeling the comforting warmth of his body and steady beating heart, brought a tiny smile back to his face. After Garrett had left those memories were all that seemed to keep him sane at times. "I used to get jealous sometimes when he and Aeryn would do that. I thought they were an item for the longest time since they were barely ever apart."

"Hawke hasn't changed that much then, still tries to make everyone happy. And still a besotted idiot too, the guy can really carry a torch."

"What?"

 "You heard me Blondie. Hawke is still carrying a torch for you, whether he'll say it aloud or not. It's the stuff that makes a storyteller want to grab the nearest quill and parchment. Already have a few books in mind." Anders felt a hot crimson blush creeping up his neck. Hawke, Garret, he still cared for him? Maybe even loved him? He needed to go after him then, he needed to see him and tell him he loved him too. Anders shot out of his chair intending to go speak to Garrett. "Hold up Blondie, listen to me for a moment."

"Why?" Anders asked, annoyed that the dwarf wouldn't let him leave just yet.

"Why? You thinking of chasing him down with proclamations of undying love? Not sure that would be the best idea at this point. Hawke's more skittish than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs when it comes to romance. The one time Rivaini managed to talk him into going to the Blooming Rose with her Hawke panicked and ran out like a dog with its tail on fire when an exceptionally forward elf named Jethann tried to talk him into coming back to his room. Rivaini teased him for months after that, poor guy." Varric would have to leave that little episode when he wrote his magnum opus. Couldn't have the audience think of their charming hero as a terrified little kid. "If you want my advice, go slow."

"No, I understand, I just want to see him. Just want to talk to him again." Well, if that wasn't one of the sweetest things Varric heard outside of his stories. That might be worthy of his next book.

"Alright, I can't resist helping lovesick mages. We head out tomorrow at dawn to check out Johann's claim of slavers in Sundermount. I think we could use an extra mage on the trip. The Hero of Ferelden isn't going to chase me down for stealing one of his Wardens, right?" He already knew the answer, but where was the fun in Anders finding out what his Commander was up to. With that Anders took his leave, his steps back to the house in Hightown feeling lighter than any he had taken in over a decade. With thoughts of winning back his love filling his head he didn't notice the new elven mage from Starkhaven being escorted by a pair of Templars to the Gallows. The short elf noticed him though, and tried to get his attention, but the noise of the bustling crowd around her drowned out her cries.

~

The excursion would take the group to a series of caves that the ancient Tevinters had once used to hold slaves before shipping them off to Minrathous. The information that Johann had been able to provide suggested that they veer wide of the Dalish camp and cross a series of ridges that would save them a day or two to the slopes where the slavers were likely setting up a base. It didn't seem to bother Garrett or Fenris to cross the crumbling shale rock shelves. Garrett had done a number of solo trips out to the area to gather the raw materials needed for potions or runes for Sandal. As such, he had made his own series of maps and was competent at navigating his way through the mountains range. At one point, the terrain became too tricky for his four legged friend. Archon had nearly slipped right down the ridge before his master picked him up and carried him over his shoulder. The beast gave Anders a dopey, tongue lolling grin from it's perch on Garrett's left shoulder. The white haired elf seemed amused at the dog's expression. Fenris, though not as frequent a traveler as Garrett, had a cat like grace that came from years of hiding and sneaking to avoid capture. To make his climb even more impressive, he did it in bare feet.

The dwarf, Dalish mage, and Grey Warden did not have the same ease as their companions. Varric would mutter curses about humans and their freakishly long legs under his breath whenever the shelves cracked beneath his boots and threaten to send him flying down the slopes. Merrill had some of the same agility as Fenris, given their common heritage, but would wince uncomfortably when the rock threatened to snap beneath her feet. She stated several times that she preferred the solid paths along the coast or the long rolling green stretches in the valleys below.

He wondered what had motivated his Commander to let him go with the others. It wasn't something he was going to spend too much time thinking about. In the past two years, he had learned that the man might be a bit crazy but he never did anything without good cause. Besides, as the senior Warden had rationalized, they need another person to keep them from becoming target practice. Nate and Cousland were meeting with contacts in the city and taking a short trip to Ansburg to meet with the Commander of the Grey in that region. Bethany was catching up with her mother and twin brother. Sigrun was going to spend some time in the city's grand library researching the Legion of the Dead's connection to House Ferald as a favor to a friend of hers in Orzammar. Anders thought it was nice to be away from the city and it's Circle. Even watching the Gallows from a distance had made Anders nervous enough to contemplate finding the nearest ship and running back to Ferelden. A ridiculous idea, but when one is accustomed to running from Templars, it's a hard habit to break.

He kept back a bit with Varric and Merrill as they traversed the jagged ridges. Seeing Garrett and Fenris cross with surprising ease, he felt it would be prudent to stick with the less experienced climbers just in case one of them fell and got hurt. Anders did not have the difficulities of the other two. He had grown up in a small village that had been sheltered from the harsh winds at the base of steep sandstone cliffs. He had climbed them man times as a small child, earning his fair shares of bruises and broken bones. The last attempt had resulted in a broken shoulder and had put him off climbing permanently. Still, he knew he would follow wherever Garrett would lead if it meant seeing those ocean eyes light up with excitement.   

They kept up a good pace until night began to fall. At this point, Varric suggested they find a place to set up camp for the night. They found a small clearing between two ridges and began preparing for night. Fenris and Varric went out to see if there was any small game around that could be caught for supper. Garrett dug out a small fire pit while Merrill and Anders found some dry wood. He used small twigs and dried leaves as kindling to start the fire. It took a couple of strikes with his flint to get the kindling ignited, but he managed to get a fire going without any magic.

"Hawke, why don't you ever use magic to start a fire? It's much quicker." Merrill commented as she went through her bags to find some mushrooms and dried herbs they could use to make a stew with whatever Fenris or Varric could catch.

"Maybe, but I like doing it the way Father showed me." Garrett replied, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he recalled Malcolm's survival lessons. The elder mage had insisted his son learn how to do many things on his own without magical assistance. Building a fire and keeping it going through the night was a basic skill every man should know, Malcolm had said as he showed his son how to strike a flint and use his breath feed the tiny, fragile spark. "At least I didn't burn my eyebrows off like Carver."

"Really? That does explain why he doesn't like camping." Garrett laughed, remembering the first time he had gone out with his Father and Carver on a camping trip. Carver had insisted that he could make a fire by himself and refused anyone's aid. He ended up sticking his face too close to the fire as he attempted to coax the flame with his breath and ended up singeing an eyebrow off. It had been weeks before it grew back normally.

"That's part of it. He's never been one for extended trips into the wilderness." A few small branches were laid onto the firepit as Garrett placed a few rocks in a circle to contain the flame. "Used to do everything he could to get out of Father's trips into the Kocari Wilds. Even pretended to have dragon pox once."

"And the Chasind never minded you being there?" Anders asked, feeling curious and intrigued to have a small window into Garrett's decade long absence.

"Never bothered us and we never bothered them." Garrett shrugged, taking a seat beside the other mage, with the mabari plopping down heavily between them. "I think they were more afraid of the local Templars then we were because they never came within five miles of Lothering if they could avoid it. Father would sometimes go into the Wilds alone and speak with a few of them, but I never went with him." It seemed a bit strange, but all apostates had their secrets.

"They were smart, I think Templars have gotten grouchier since the Blight. Or maybe they just got fed up with having to catch me every few months." Garrett let out a chuckle and shook his head.

"How did they keep catching you?" Merrill asked, now interested in the other mage's story. Unlike Garrett and Anders, she had never lived in the Circle and Templars tended to avoid Dalish mages. Their large clans and nomadic life usually deterred the threat of capture. It made it difficult for her to understand why Garrett was so paranoid about her using magic in Kirkwall. She didn't know that some Templars could be so ruthless as to physically abuse their charges if the mood struck them.

"I wore sign around my neck that said 'I'm a mage'. I liked making it easier for them." Merrill just blinked and looked to Garrett for an explanation, "oh, sorry, that was joke. You've never heard how the Templars use phylacteries?" Again, the elf shook her head.

"It's basically blood magic, Merrill," Garrett explained, "they take blood from every apprentice and use it to track you down if you ever try to escape. However, if you manage to destroy or steal your phylactery it's almost impossible for them to find you. If you're careful and ditch the robes." He ran a hand over the back of his neck, realizing just what he was saying. He was not only telling Merrill about basic Circle knowledge, but Anders how he had managed to escape and stay free all these years. "I got lucky that my phylactery was still in the Tower and Templars are willing to do almost anything when you offer them lyrium when they're in withdrawal."

"Did you destroy it?" Anders asked, leaning in a bit as he spoke.

"No," Anders was stunned. If he had been given his phylactery the first thing he would have done was toss it into the nearest sea after boiling the blood inside down to nothing. "I gave it to my Mother. Just in case something were to happen, it could be used to find me." Leandra Hawke had gone white when her son had placed the glass tube in her hand. It was more than just giving her a piece of himself. It was an ultimate act of trust. "I told her to hide it when we came to Kirkwall. There was no way my Uncle should have more leverage on his apostate niece and nephew." The mabari let out a low growl at the mention of Gamlen. The drunken sod had attempted to sell Archon for a few silvers to a Kirkwall noble that had been hoping to acquire such a magnificent member of the breed for his kennels. The dog had bitten Gamlen on the backside and run all the way back to the docks where Garrett had been working that day. Garrett had been enraged to discover his Uncle's attempts to steal his friend and had been sorely tempted to wring Gamlen's neck if he thought it might do any good.  

"Sounds like a lovely person. Let's never meet." Archon gave a short snuffling sound of agreement and even licked the blonde on the face, "uuhh, down boy. Do all dogs drool this much?" Merrill giggled at him as he attempted to wipe the drool from his face. 

"You do know it's a complement to have a mabari like you," Garrett scratched the dog behind his ears, "they're smart. Good at reading people. Archon hated Gamlen from the moment he first sniffed him."

"Fereldens and dogs, it's insanity." The blonde let out a long suffering sigh, causing the other two mages to roll their eyes and smile. Fenris and Varric returned shortly after with a couple rabbits that they had caught. Varric handed over a couple for Garrett to clean since he wanted to take some time to polish Bianca.

"Need help?" Anders pointed to the three rabbits Hawke was  carrying. They were decent sized, but wouldn't be good for much more than stew. Garrett raised an eyebrow, he'd never known Anders to have any culinary or hunting skills. But there was a quite the gap of time where such things could have been learned. Interested to test the theory he gave him a rabbit to clean. To his surprise Anders was able to quickly removed the skin and organs, leaving behind the meat and marrow for later. "The Commander showed me how to do this during our first patrol. He insisted I learn now that I wasn't in the Circle anymore."

"Father showed me," Garrett volunteered, "he wanted Carver and I to be able to take care of ourselves if anything happened to him. I guess he knew his time was limited, he died a few years later." 

"I'm sorry for your loss. He must have been a good man, from what you and Bethany say about him." He gave the dark haired mage a sympathetic smile, "seems he did a good job, you survived the Blight." Garrett nodded.

"Lots of people survived, we just did what we had to. And we had help."

"Varric mentioned you worked with mercenaries, that couldn't have been easy." Garrett had a tight expression on his face, the light of the fire making him appear weary and worn. Anders wondered if he had said something he shouldn't have. But Garrett kept talking, keeping the door open for Anders.

"It wasn't, but if we hadn't, Beth and I could have been in the Gallows years ago. They probably would have executed us for being apostates. The Knight Commander is not a merciful person." Anders had heard stories about Kirkwall's Knight Commander and her near obsession with hunting maleficarum. Even by other Templar accounts, she was considered extreme. It made his heart pound at the thought of the self-righteous bitch hurting his Garrett. "There's worse employers than Johann, at least he doesn't deal in slavery."

"I guess, still not my first choice."

"Well, not all of us are lucky enough to get chosen as Grey Wardens." Garrett was smiling again, it wasn't the sweet smile from his youth. That smile was probably beyond his reach for the time being. It was still a step up from the bland politician smile that had been on his face the previous time they had spoken. Little steps, he thought to himself, Varric said to take it slow. The dwarf had been surprisingly eager to help him win back Garrett. Maker, don't let this end up in some future book. He needed to maintain some shred of dignity. But if his dear one wished to keep talking, who was he to deny him?

"I wasn't chosen, it was be conscripted or beheaded. And I like having my head attached to my neck too much to pick the latter. Besides, it would be a crime to deprive the world of this," he gestured to himself, Garrett giving a true laugh this time. "You laugh, but you know I'm right." Garrett could feel himself relaxing a bit. He was not ready to be as open as he might with Varric or Fenris or Merrill, but if Anders was here to help with the slavers, he could at least be friendly. Anything more though, he would not allow himself.

"Laugh at a member of such an esteemed order? Me? Never!" The rest of the night was spent preparing a small dinner for the group, a rabbit stew made from the meat and marrow of the animals Fenris had trapped, seasoned with mushrooms and thyme. Anders had watched with some astonishment at the amount of food Garrett could put away. His appetite rivaled that of a Grey Warden. A plan was made to climb down one of the more stable ridges in the morning while keeping an eye out for any slavers as they made their way towards the old slaver dens. If they didn't find any of the slavers the area near the Dalish encampment was the most likely spot the scout for them. 

The night grew later and the moon hovered at it's peak as everyone started settling in for the night. There were so many more things Anders wanted to tell Garrett, so many things he wanted to ask. He could have stayed up all night if Garrett hadn't seemed so tired. Instead he laid out his bed roll near the other man, but left plenty of space if the other wished to move. Garrett's dog took up that spot, a warm barrier between them. He sat up to say goodnight and found the other man snoring away. He made a picture of peace in his sleep, lips just slightly parted as he breathed and dark hair gently framing his angular face. There was the strong temptation to smooth the thick black strands that lay across his forehead. He denied himself this joy, he didn't wish to startle the sleeping beauty before him. Instead, he laid down on his back and stared up at the twinkling black velveteen sky above until his own eyes shut with dreams. 

~

Anders had woken up to find Garrett still sleeping close by. The raven haired mage’s mabari was still lying lengthwise between the two men. Anders saw that Garrett had snuggled up to the furry beast in his sleep. The lucky creature, he thought. It almost made him laugh to realize he was jealous of a dog. The dog was staring at him as he sat up, it’s large brown eyes far too intelligent for Anders’ comfort. It didn’t cover him in wet drooly kisses this time, just tapped him on the arm with a soft black nose. As if to say _Hello human, pet me?_ The gesture was too reminiscent of his beloved tabby for him to resist giving the dog a rare scratch behind the ears.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Garrett was watching them with a single half opened eye, “he’ll never leave you alone now.”

“Another reason I’m a cat person,” Anders smiled, “they aren’t nearly as needy.” Archon made a small whimpering sound, “what, it’s true. They ignore you until they want something and then sit on your head till they have it.”

“Or spit up hairballs into your boots.” Unlike Anders, Garrett had never been very fond of cats. The Tower mouser had hated him. It used to leave slimy hairballs in his shoes if he didn’t remember to put them away at night. Garrett stretched out his long legs as he sat up, the vertebrae in his back popping loudly in the early morning. He winced a little. “Maker,” he whispered under his breath. His back hadn’t been the same since his accident in Denerim. Most days he could get by, but the altitude chill and hard ground were agitating his nerves.

“You alright?” Anders asked, concerned when he saw Garrett’s pained expression. Garrett attempted to brush off the query with forced nonchalance. 

“Just stiff, I miss my mattress.” Anders didn’t buy it. He crouched down behind the other man and held up a clinical hand behind him. “What are you..” Anders shushed him and quickly reached out with his magic. The damage in Garrett’s spine was astonishing. By the Maker, he shouldn’t be standing, let alone walking. Every single vertebrae from the middle of his neck down to his lower back had been crushed at some point. The bones had somehow healed up for the most part, but there was a lot of scar tissue. He recalled that terrible dream from the Tower. The dream where he had seen and held Garrett’s broken body as the mage nearly went to the Maker’s side. Had it been more than a dream? Had the other mage somehow managed to reach out to him across the Fade?  

“Garrett,” he said, voice on the verge of breaking, “what happened to you?” Garrett flinched away from him and out of reach. The concerned expression on Anders’ face was tugging a knot he kept buried deep down. Seeing it was reminder of had been and what could never be. Of caring and longing only to be lost again, not to another person per say, but a greater cause. Instinctively, he curled into himself a bit and away from the blonde’s touch. He hated the way some would attempt to handle him with kid gloves the moment they perceived any weakness in him.  

“It was an accident. Long time ago, I’m better now.” It wasn’t entirely true, but he didn’t care. When the look on the other mage’s face did not change Garrett scowled. He was no weakling in need of coddling. “Just a bit of lingering stiffness.”

“Every single bone in your back was broken and never properly healed,” this was not a question. Anders could sense the shoddy job done on Garrett’s injuries. He had seen the injuries in the Fade. Had seen it nearly take Garrett from him forever. “I can help.” Garrett just dismissed the offer. 

“There's no need. It will pass once I get out of the cold.” Anders crossed his arms, annoyed at Garrett’s stubbornness. He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t Garrett let him do that? He had made his mistakes, there was no denying that or the ramifications of said actions. Yes, hearts had been broken and while that was something he may never be able to mend, Anders could fix the physical pains. Please, he wanted to say, just give me the chance, please let me help you. “Besides, if there is slavers about, you’ll need all your energy.”

“If there’s slavers about, won’t you need to be able to concentrate to defend yourself?” The younger mage's mulish behavior would not prevent Anders from doing what he felt was necessary. Anders grabbed the other man’s shoulder none to gently, “if you won’t do this for yourself, do it for your comrades.” Garrett looked like he was going to argue, but held his tongue. He simply tucked in his chin in a mild sulk. Anders took his silence to be an acquiescence. He released the man’s shoulder. He placed one hand on Garrett’s neck and the other on the center of his back. He closed his eyes and fell into a mild trance. With his magic he could see the spots where the damage had been worst and where he was still in pain. He couldn’t undo the previous damage, no mage could, but he could mend the jagged bone and tattered nerve endings.

Garrett was sitting sullenly as Anders placed his hands on him. He grumbled a bit, but stopped when a rush off warmth flowed down his back. The pain he associated with the mountain chill was fading. A soft sigh escaped him as the healer worked his magic. Yes, this was very nice. He had almost forgotten what it was like to not have some subtle pains. There hadn’t been time in Denerim for him to recover properly after his accident due to the impending darkspawn attack, so they had been forced to improvise. His sister had managed to find a healer living in the Alienage who had used magic to patch him up as best they could. The healer, an older elf woman, had no formal training and had never dealt with such a grievous wound. She was able to put the shattered vertebrae back together, but the nerve damage was beyond her. It was only by his own willpower that Garrett had been able to get on the boat and relearn to use his legs. He had almost forgotten what it was like to go through the day without some lingering aches.

The warmth left him as Anders lifted his hands. The pain did not return this time. He could have kissed the mage if he weren’t so certain about his impending departure once they returned to Kirkwall. No need to get attached to what he couldn’t have.

“I’ve done what I can, the pain shouldn’t be so bad now.” Anders sounded drained, the healing had taken more out of him than he had expected. There was still a massive amount of damage to be undone if at all possible. The blonde fished out a Rejuvenation potion from his pack and popped the cap. It tasted terrible and burned going down. He drank half and offered the half to Garrett. To his credit, the foul taste and after burn didn’t seem to faze him. “You should think about seeing a healer when you get back, they might be able to do something about the rest of your pain.” Garrett was glad he hadn’t removed his shirt. He didn’t want the other mage to see the large scars on his back. They were …unpleasant to look at. In fact, he never removed his clothing in public if he could help it. He didn’t want people gawking at him. He didn’t want Anders to pity him more than he already did.

“I’ll think about it,” Garrett stood up and went around to wake the rest of the group. Anders kindly dropped the matter. Garrett was a grown man, what he choose to do with his body was his business. He did take satisfaction from the fluidity of Garrett’s movements, no pain slowing him down today.

They broke their fast with dried rations and cold water from the nearby creek. It was almost like being back on patrol in Amaranthine. Except there was a magnificent lack of darkspawn. Garrett sat next to him again as he ate. He said a quick word of thanks for the healing, but didn’t glance up from his meal. Anders just took it with a smile. Just as before, Garrett never liked admitting when he had been wrong. Stubborn ass. To make it worse he insisted on sharing food with his drooly beast. Fereldens and their dogs, it was sheer insanity.      

It didn’t take much time to put everything away and put out the remaining coals in the fire pit. Garrett took lead and showed them the shortest route back down to the mountain side. Fenris moved easily along the rocky slope, agile as a dancer despite his armor and clunky blade. Varric and Merrill had to watch their steps more carefully. Varric cursed humans and their long legs numerous times before they reached flat ground again. Anders didn’t have much trouble. He had grown up along the cliffs of the Anderfels and found himself recalling the climbing techniques his cousins had showed him so many years ago. It wasn’t as graceful as Hawke or Fenris, but he didn’t go flying down the mountains.

At midday they stopped to rest. Garrett had been taking a brief respite against a large tree trunk when he realized something wasn’t right. He opened his eyes to survey the area. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Just his companions also taking a moment to rest. Merrill was humming as she picked some plants for her potion supplies. Varric was chatting with Anders about something, likely funny and bawdy if the grin on the dwarf’s face was any indication. Fenris was sharpening his sword with a whetstone, the slick slice reverberating in against the surrounding rock walls. Sound. That was it. There wasn’t any sound. No animals, no birds, just the noise he and his companions made. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as a rush of adrenaline quickened hi heart rate. He bolted up and whipped out his staff.

“Hawke?” Fenris was at his side in a blink. Garrett held up a finger to his mouth. The others could hear it now too. The unbroken silence that foreshadows something bad to come. “I’m with you, my friend.” Anders would have been jealous of the possessive tone if he weren’t so preoccupied with surviving a potential ambush. An arrow came out of nowhere and landed half a pace from Garrett’s feet. A warning shot. Seeing this brazen move enraged the white haired elf, “show yourself, cowards.” A group of heavily armored men separated from the shadows on the ridge above them. One of them, likely the leader of the band, stepped forward and removed his helmet. He gave a cruel smile to Fenris and looked almost delighted to Garrett. 

“Ahh, you must be the one everyone is talking about, Serah Hawke. Scion of the Amells and voice of the Ferelden refugees, your actions have not gone unnoticed.” His accent marked him as Tevinter. It would appear Johann’s information had been accurate. “I see you have my Master’s property with you. How convenient for all of us.” Fenris snarled. “I’ve heard so many things about you Serah, I have no wish to fight such an impressive foe. All I want is the slave.”

“Fenris is no slave! He is no man’s property.” Hawke shouted back, an angry red starting to color his face. Fenris gave a cocky grin at Garrett’s words. “If you want him, you have to go through me.” The head slaver was no longer giving them his shit eating grin. He had clearly wanted to avoid conflict, but would not hesitate to act. His master had paid him well already and much more was to come when he brought the disobedient elf back.

“If you are willing to throw your life away for a slave, so be it. Archers!” Anders watched as the Tevinter slavers readied their bows, every arrow aimed at Garrett. They were going to take him down before he could cast a single spell. No! He couldn’t lose him again, not when they were just starting to find each other again. Reaching out with his magic he threw up a ball of kinetic energy that encompassed the other mage. Just in time as a slew of deadly arrows rained down on him. To his immense relief, every single bolt bounced off the shield.

“Varric, time to introduce Bianca to our friends. Merrill, use your glyphs. Fenris, cover me!” Anders summoned up his magic, whirling his staff as he shot off several fireballs. One of the slaver’s gambesons caught on fire, sending the man into a fit of hysterics as he tried to put himself out, bowling into several of his fellows as he did so. Varric’s crossbow unleashed a storm of arrows, the paralysis glyphs Merrill had cast prevented the slavers from raising their shields. There was the sound of high pitched shrieks as several were impaled and killed. Fenris stayed close to Hawke, slicing down any that came too close to the mage as he concentrated on his spell. One man got close and had raised his curved sword to bring it down on Garret’s bent back. Fenris intercepted the blade just before it hit the mage and threw all of his strength into the man, sending him sprawling. Once the man was on the ground he drove the point through, pinning him to the ground and tearing open his abdominal cavity.

The air became thick and heavy as Garrett continued his spell. The hair on the back of Anders’ neck stood up on end as electricity crackled above him. Garrett wasn’t just calling on a single bolt, he was calling on an entire storm! Lightning began shooting across the sky, the initial strikes crashing to the ground just inches from Garrett’s feet. This didn’t slow the mage down, he kept summoning and the storm kept building. Then it all crashed down. A tempest of hot blinding light and booming cracks tore across the mountain. The Tevinters never stood a chance in their heavy steel armor.

~~~

Garrett’s man made storm blinded Anders. His vision blurred to white as the lightning crashed to the ground around him. Amazingly, not a single bolt hit him. He had to cover his eyes as the world around him became too loud and bright. He couldn’t hear the screams of the slavers anymore, if any had survived the initial onslaught.

As the booms faded, blessed darkness hit him. Spots danced across his eyes as he blinked. Maker, he was going to have a headache later. When had Garrett become that powerful? The mage had always been naturally talented with primal magic, but that tempest was something out of the old stories. He wasn’t certain even Irving was capable of wielding such power. As his eyes adjusted he could see that there were no slavers still standing. The one that had been standing not five feet from him had been cooked inside his own armor. Garrett had made his way up the ridge to where the slavers had been lying in wait. Fenris was looming over one of the slavers and shaking him, demanding answers.

“Where is Danarius?” The elf demanded, slapping the squirming slaver captain. The man was badly injured, several of Varric’s bolts had penetrated his armor and were embedded deep in his gut. He would die soon if he wasn’t healed. “Answer me, damn you.” The man coughed up a trickle of blood. Hawke laid a steadying arm on his friend, but Fenris was too angry to care. He wouldn’t let the man die without answering his questions.

“Not here.” The man wheezed, “Hadriana sent us.” Fenris hissed at the name. His pale face darkened with anger.

“Hadriana, that wicked bitch. Is she here?” The slaver rolled his eyes up the path to the mouth of a cave. Yes, in the caves.

“Please, help…” the slaver begged, “don’t make me go into the darkness.” He coughed up more blood as his lips turned blue. Anders instincts as a healer were strong, but he wouldn’t help a man that had tried to kill Garrett. Let the Void take him.

“I’ll send you into the light then,” Fenris’ tattoos glowed and his arm disappeared into the man’s chest. There was a wet squishing sound as his hand reemerged with a bloody beating heart. Garrett took a step back, clearly unnerved. Fenris crushed the organ between his fingers, reducing it to a red pulp.

“Fenris…was that necessary? He was dying already.” Garrett spoke like a man attempting to calm a rabid animal, in a soothing voice that held no condemnation.

“If he was dying, what does it matter?” Fenris snapped, “the magisters and their dogs deserve no better. They care for nothing but expanding their own power through slave labor and blood magic. Mages ….” Varric cleared his throat loudly to let the elf know he was going too far. Fenris stopped his rant, realizing he was about to lump Garrett together with all other mages. He hated magic and the magisters, but he didn’t hate his friend and savior. The elf looked down at his feet in a silent apology. Garrett got the elf to meet his eyes and reminded him of the oath he had sworn years ago.

“I made you a promise on the first night we met. Do you remember what I said?” Fenris nodded, it had been the first time in a very long anyone had treated him as anything other than an animal or piece of property. Even most humans outside of Tevinter saw elves as second class citizens. He was so skeptical of the mage when he had first sought out his services, certain he would be betrayed at the drop of a hat. But Hawke had proved him wrong, and continued to do so every day.

“You said you would help me stay free, that you knew no man belongs to another. When the time comes, we will face Danarius together.” The two clasped forearms, renewing the promise. The feral wildness departed Fenris, he was calm once more. “Then, will you help me again? I must face Hadriana.”

“If you tell me who she is, yes.”

“She is Danarius’ apprentice. Though I suspect she is now a magister in her own right. She used to take such delight in torturing me, depriving me sleep and food until I was nearly dead.” The tattoos started glowing again, “I want her to suffer. I want her dead.”

Translations

schlaf gut mein herz - sleep well my heart


	10. All the Words of Tongue and Pen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions between our heroes finally get resolved. Turns out all they need is trip to the Fade and a few knocks to the head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings to go up in the next chapter. Just as warning for those who find fics of the E rating not their cup of tea.

Anders wanted to speak with Garrett away from the seething elf. Something just didn't feel right and his years of being on the run had honed his survival instincts to razor sharpness. His gut stirred with unease as they went to deal with a magister who had crossed hundreds of miles for a slave. Surely, someone so determined to find one slave would not be unprepared given the long trail of bodies Fenris has left beind over the years. Wouldn't it be smarter to get more of Garrett's friends to back them up given the nature of the enemy? Shouldn’t they be heading back to Kirkwall to get backup? Garrett had brushed him off, his mind clearly set on dealing with this Hadriana right at that moment. It didn’t help that his other friends seemed to ready to follow him over the edge of the abyss. He trusted Garrett’s powers and resolve, but Fenris was a wildcard. The elf might turn on them if he felt his freedom might be impeded by their presence. If that happened, he didn’t care how much Garrett may like the elf, he would tear him to shreds with his bare hands.

Garrett remained blessedly unaware of his darker thoughts. Good, he would hate to see the horror that would inevitably spread across that dear face, skin going bloodless in fear and eyes brimming with disgust. He would see those hands that had healed him just that morning as instruments of death. The years spent apart and then in the Wardens had hardened the blonde's resolve when it came to performing the unpleasant. A year trying to save Amaranthine from darkspawn and scheming nobles had left a mark on Anders, stripping away some of the naivety that came with living in the Tower. He had seen some of the true evil that men were willing to commit on their fellows just to gain a pinch of power. The world was a far colder place than the books in the Tower had described and had left a jaded cynicism he attempted to cover with bad jokes. Garrett had also experienced some of the world's worst, but he somehow maintained the idea that people were inherently good and would act as such. He would be heartbroken to see that Anders no longer shared this view and might distance himself once more. 

He was so distracted by his brooding he nearly fell flat on his face. Varric grabbed a handful of his blue and grey robes to balance him. The dwarf had a knowing expression on his face. He gave Anders a quick pat on the arm and the two walked in step just a few paces behind Garrett and Fenris. Merrill briefly fussed over him, but he ignored it. The dainty elf might be sweet, but she was also helplessly stupid if she was indeed consorting with demons as Fenris had suggested. At best, the girl was a slowly ticking bomb that would explode with a loud boom. Garrett should know better than to befriend a blood mage.

“Hold,” Garrett and Fenris had stopped, “up ahead, there’s two guards at the entrance of that cave.” Anders can see two men in matching Tevinter steel armor. They were standing at attention with their bright silver swords shining as sunlight filtered down from the clouds above. “They must be Hadriana’s sentries, Varric” Garrett motioned for the dwarf to come closer, “think Bianca can take them down from this distance?”

“Hawke,” the merchant prince said in a fake hurt, “you wound Bianca’s pride.”

“My apologies, but we only have the one chance or they alert the rest to our presence.” Varric loaded a pair of white fletched bolts and carefully aimed at the hired guard. The bolts only made a small whooshing noise as they flew true. Both guards were hit in the exposed flesh just above their gorgets. They both flailed for a few brief seconds, unable to call out with severed vocal chords before collapsing. With the first guards down, they were now able to proceed to the cave.

From the look of things, this cave was man-made. The entrance was rectangular rather than rounded, with faded Arcanum script carved into the lintels of the solid wood doors leading inside. The letters indicated this place to have once been a holding pen for slaves on their way to the Imperium.  As Kirkwall had once been part of the ancient empire, there were many places such as this scattered about the mountains and coastline. While not used for holding slaves anymore, many smugglers and bandits had made made bases in them over the years. Hadriana had likely picked this place because of it’s remote location and ease to defend. The fact that it was a former slaver pit was just icing on the cake. Garrett set his dog to guard the entrance in case any mercenaries that might still be lurking about tried to enter the cave.

With weapons and magic ready, they pushed open the doors and went inside. They were able to pass through the short entryway without being accosted. In the main room, a former torture chamber if the rusted rack and iron maiden were any indication, they found a number of guards who had been at ease. The guards were startled and some stumbled to their feet as they prepared to take down the intruders. Fenris nearly sliced one of the guards in half as he charged ahead. Anders and Merrill casted glyphs of paralysis on some of the bigger guards so Fenris would have an easier time cutting them down. Garrett joined Fenris in the fray. His staff ended with a two foot long double edged blade that he wielded like a spear. A  large, burly reaver that had broken through the paralysis came at Garrett with his long axe. The axe meet the shaft of the spear in a loud clang as the steel axe face hit a band of solid aurum. The aurum, despite being thinner than the axe, didn’t even dent. Aurum was formed under the high pressures of active volcanos and resistant to blunt force for the most part. The reaver tried again and again, hitting the metal bands of Garrett’s black dragonthorne staff. After blocking several powerful strikes, Garrett was able to use his body weight to push back, knocking the man off balance.

The reaver stumbled for a second, but that was all Garrett needed. He was able to move a step back and twirl his staff around in a deadly arc before jabbing it forward into the heavily armored man’s chest. The man had been trying to charge him and his momentum pushed the blade through. Hot arterial blood sprayed from the wound, gushing in time with the dying man’s heart. A small trickle hit Garrett across the face, leaving a horizontal line of red war paint across his nose.

Garrett was so absorbed in his own fight he didn’t even see the rest of the guards fall. He could see where Fenris has cut them so deep bone and entrails are spilling out across the black stone floor. He considered saying something of the unnecessary brutality, but it would just fall on deaf ears at this point. In sharp contrast were the men who had fallen to Varric’s arrows. The only indication of their passing a tuft of white feather protruding from various vital spots with barely a drop of blood around them.

“Please,” Garrett saw a small elf girl curled up in one of the corners. Her ragged skirt had flecks of blood on it, but the dingy brown color indicated it wasn’t from this skirmish. “Don’t hurt me, please.” Fenris grew angry at her words and knelt down to speak with her. She just cowered further from him even more as he tried to tell her she was safe now. “I’ll be good, please just don’t hurt me.” As Fenris attempted to touch her, she ran and hid behind Garrett.

“Easy now,” Garrett shushed her, “no one here is going to lay a finger on you. What’s your name?”

“Orana sir,” the pale girl replied, “are you my master now?” A slave, she was a slave, and now she didn’t know what to do.

“No, Orana, you aren’t a slave anymore, understand?” The poor girl started protesting, begging him to take her. She had been a slave for her whole life, she and her Papa had belonged to Mistress Hadriana. Mistress Hadriana had killed her Papa for a blood ritual so now she was all alone. She could cook and clean. She would do anything to not be sent away. It hurt Garrett’s heart to see her in such a state. She had been a caged bird her whole life and now even with the door open she wouldn’t fly on her own. “Orana, I can’t take you as a slave, it’s wrong. But,” he removed a few shining sovereigns from his coin purse, “if you go to Kirkwall, ask for directions to the Amell estate. There is a woman named Leandra there, tell her Garrett sent you. You can work as a maid for her if you like, as a servant, not a slave.” The girl took the money with tears of gratitude, she tried to thank him, but he wouldn’t have it. She dropped a little curtsy and was gone.

“Never thought you’d be the type to have a slave,” Fenris snarled. Garrett just rolled his eyes.

“I gave her a job Fenris, I’m going to pay her.”

“Oh,” the elf replied, now embarrassed, “well, that’s good.” Garrett could understand where Fenris was coming from, but he didn’t appreciate it when his friend would categorize him in the same way as the magisters. As Varric had mentioned time and again, tact and Fenris were estranged at the best of times. “We should keep going, Hadriana can’t be far.”

“Alright, let’s put an end to this,” Garrett gave his staff another twirling flourish, pleased that his back is still pain free. He was glad Anders decided not to listen to him this morning. If he had, his muscles would be screaming at him for mercy.

It didn’t take long to find Hadriana. There was only one remaining room for them to search. It was former holding cells. The iron bars were rusted and dented from previous centuries of use. There were even some fragile dirty white piles of bones from the unfortunate ones who had perished waiting for transport. The Tevinter mage stood at the center of the room, a blood soaked dagger in her right hand as the left curled around a solid black staff with a gold dragon’s head. The magister flashed them all a wicked grin. She had been waiting for them. She was eager to reclaim her mentor’s slave, but would take him alive or dead. “You see, Serah, the slave himself is unimportant, it’s the lyrium markings in his skin I want. I’ll peel the very flesh from his bones if I must.”

“Not going to happen.” Garrett tapped the bladed end of his staff against the floor, sending of a small shower of sparks. He wanted to give Hadriana a final chance to back off. “Why don’t you run on home now. You can tell Danarius what happened to your guard, and what will keep happening if you continue to threaten my friend.” Hadriana just sneered at the other mage’s impudence. Her own staff began to crackle with arcane energies, though of a far darker type than Garrett’s. There would be no negotiation, only the death of one or the other. Using the dagger, the blood mage called forth a dozen shades. The black, wraithlike spirits screamed and fly at their summoner’s enemies. Garrett cast a spell of rock armor to shield himself from the razor sharp claws. It slowed him down, but still permitted him the ability to cast. Merrill’s glyphs did little to slow down the ephemeral beings and Varric’s arrows just passed through. It was up to him and Anders to take them down. “Anders”, he shouted, “time to put your inner pyromaniac to use!” The blonde man laughed and unleashed a small hail of fire balls. The foul creatures howled as the mage fire burned them. “Yes!” The exhilaration of fighting beside a fellow mage in his own element is something beyond description. Garrett had not done so since Bethany's departure and reveled in the feel of their combined magic flowing and entwining as one. Without thinking, they both call down fire and lightning, their attacks somehow becoming synced. The wraiths were torn apart by the burning tempest, ashes disappearing before they hit the floor. “Back to the Fade with you!”

Hadriana was fighting Fenris as the other mages dealt with the shades. She needed to keep them busy while she took down the slave. She had sensed the other mages’ power levels. The black haired one far exceeded her, the feel of his magic a palpable weight that pressed down on her uncomfortably. Her master would love to take a mage with such strong potential under his tutelage. It was too bad he was harboring the slave, he would have been a powerful ally. The slave was hammering her staff with his sword, making just the barest notches in the hard ironwood. She tried repelling him with staff and magic, but his lyrium markings and superior strength prevented her from gaining ground. Fenris kept pressing, forcing her back further and further until her back hit the iron bars of the cells. The ironwood of her staff gave out and snapped in half. He was about to bring the death blow down on her head when she fell to her knees to beg him for mercy. He wasn’t moved. Just before his sword hit her she screamed that she would tell him where his sister was.

‘Sister?” Fenris said, he couldn’t remember any sister or family at all. All his memories before the lyrium markings were given had been erased. “Liar,” he spat, “I have no sister.”

“Fenris wait! What if she’s telling the truth?” Garrett’s rock armor spell had ended and he hurried to his friend’s side. “This could be your chance to regain your memories, your family.” Fenris put his sword away and lifted Hadriana from the floor with a hand clenching her throat.

“Start talking.”

“Varania, her name’s Varania. She’s a servant in Minrathous.” Fenris held her a bit tighter when she said servant.

“Servant, not a slave?” Hadriana desperately nodded, clawing now at the hand cutting off precious oxygen from her lungs. If she was going to die, she wasn’t going alone. With a burst of telekinesis, she drove the broken end of her staff upwards. Hawke had seen the end of the staff wobble right before it hit Fenris and shoved him out of the way. The staff missed Fenris. It pierced Garrett’s gut and pushed through his back. Not her intended target, but at least she had killed someone right before Fenris snapped her neck. She died with an evil smile on her lips. Anders watched in horror as the wood exited Garrett’s back, screaming out his name. Garrett looked down at the ruined staff protruding from his gut. All he could think was ‘I’m dead’.      

~

Struggling to comprehend what had just happened, the mage fumbled at the broken end poking through his abdomen. The raw animal fear of death was shoved aside by searing agony. The pain was too great for him to even form thoughts. Garrett’s knees gave out under him. He would have fallen and further impaled himself if it weren’t for the Grey Warden’s healer instincts. Anders came from behind and grabbed him to prevent Garrett from landing on his front or back. Anders knew they needed to get the staff out of him without Garrett bleeding out. He had treated such injuries before when the Vigil had been under attack by the Mother’s brood. He had been lucky enough to get to some in time, but most died from such wounds. The odds were against them, but he had to try. He couldn’t allow Garrett to slip away into the darkness. He sent tendrils of healing energy into the man’s broken body, calling on the other’s spirit to rage against the dying of the light. He cauterized what he could, but left the tissue directly touching the wood alone. He would need to be able to pull out the staff without dried blood and tissue clinging to the wood.

“Garrett,” he pleaded, “please stay with me, don’t go to sleep.” Garrett’s blue eyes struggled to stay open, to focus on something other than the tingling numbness and cold. He saw Merrill was crying, her hands covering her mouth to stifle her sobs. He wanted to tell her not to worry, but his tongue refused to form words.

Varric was standing next to her, “don’t worry Daisy, Blondie will fix Hawke right up.” Anders broke off the bit poking through Garrett’s back, it would be safer if there was less to pull out. Not wanting Garrett to have a chance to tense up, he quickly tugged out the other end near the stomach. Garrett barely made a sound as the staff left his body. Tossing it aside, Anders lay his hand on the gaping hole in Garrett’s abdomen. The wound began to close itself as he weaved his spirit magic through the layers of torn tissue. He had to nearly deplete his lyrium supply to maintain his mana. He was so focused on healing Garrett he barely tasted the bitter, chalky liquid as it passed his lips. All that mattered was saving the man in his arms. When he was finished, he eased the other man into a kneeling position, he knew what was coming next. The hemorrhaged blood and lymph fluid needed to be purged from the body. Garrett vomited up several mouthfuls of clotted blood. “It’s alright, there, let it go.” Anders rubbed gentle circles into the man’s twitching back as he spat up the last clots. He was light headed and had tingling in his toes and fingers, but he was alive. Somehow still blessedly breathing. Garrett's eyes slid shut and his frame went limp as he passed into unconsciousness. He had tried to hang onto the spark of life inside him, but the trauma had nearly snuffed it out. 

"Lethallin," Merrill knelt down to cup the mage's ghost white face, "Lethallin, wake up." Her eyes widened and she gave his cheeks a few taps, "Anders, what's wrong with him? I can't wake Hawke." Garrett's head lolled back and landed on Anders' chest.  

"Garrett?" Anders pressed a finger to his neck to take his pulse. It was weak, but even with the blood loss it shouldn't have been so faint. The healing energies in Anders should have been enough to compensate until Garrett's body was able to produce more blood on it's own. "Garrett, mein herz?" He gently ran a hand up and down the other mage's arm, "I can't sense him." He realized that as his magic filled the other man, that he couldn't feel the living magic core that all mages possessed. It appeared to have been extinguished. "I can't feel his magic."

"But that means..." Merrill brought her hands up as she recalled one of the lessons the Keeper had taught her. "but he's still breathing." A mage only lost their magic in one of two ways. The first was through the Rite of Tranquility which destroyed the link between the mage and the Fade leaving behind a hollow shell of a person. The second was when the mage died.      

"Will someone please tell the dwarf what's going on?" Varric asked getting antsy as he watched the looks the two conscious mages were sharing. Merrill was on the verge of tears and Anders was cradling his friend's body with a hand running almost frantically through the thick black hair that curled around pale fingers. Fenris was also on the verge of panic as he saw the lifeless state of Garrett's body. The mage was indeed still breathing, but he was pale as a corpse and unmoving even as Merrill and Anders tried to maneuver him into a carry.

Fenris had moved to the other side of the room to put as much distance as he could between himself and Garrett. He had been so caught up in his own need for revenge he had nearly gotten his friend killed. He had been certain Hadriana had gotten one final vicious action before he had snapped her neck. The pleasure he should have taken from the death of his former tormentor was stolen away. Even as the vertebrae had cracked beneath his hands, all he could think of was Garrett's impending death. But the other human refused to let Hawke go. He'd nearly emptied their remaining lyrium to save Garrett.

"Hawke," Fenris said, "I…I am so sorry." Fenris backed away to the door leading out of the cave, "I'm sorry, but I need to go." He wouldn't stay to watch his friend die. The elf took off running even as Varric and Merrill called after him. He couldn't stay near Hawke. He had already killed so many of the Fog Warriors at his master's command when he thought freedom just a dream. Now, two years free, he had gotten his savior killed and he couldn't bear to watch Garrett take his last breath. He needed to get away and not look back.

~

"There might be a way to wake him up." Anders said as he laid Garrett down in a small clearing a small ways from the cave. Garrett's breathing was shallower and his pulse barely there. They didn't have much time if they were to save him. His body was still alive, but his spirit had slipped from it's mortal chain. It hadn't crossed the Fade to wherever the dead went, but it was no longer attached to it's mortal form. "I think Garrett once reached out to me in a dream when he was injured in Denerim and I healed him in the Fade. I might be able to do it again."

"But if he's no longer bound to his body, he could be anywhere in the Fade." Merrill pointed out, "where would you even begin to look? The Fade is vast, you could spend decades and barely cover a mile."

"I can try to use my spirit healing to track him. He was still with us when I closed his wound. My magic might still be lingering on him." It was a long shot, as the magic had probably faded if not entirely dissipated since. But it was the only idea he had short of allowing Merrill to try some of her blood magic to contact spirits to find the missing mage. Given that it would likely be demons she would find, he discounted the idea immediately. 

"What can we do?" Varric asked. The dwarf was not sure about any of this working. Magic and the Fade always left him uneasy, but that was the attitude of dwarves in general. 

"Keep watch and be prepared to send for help if something goes wrong. You never know what you'll encounter in the Fade." Anders took one of Garrett's heavily calloused hands and held it gently in his own. He pressed a kiss to the palm and pressed the hand over his heart. A physical connection might help him locate what region of the Fade the other mage was in. He drank the last two vials of lyrium and felt the fuzzy sensation of his own connection to the Fade unlocking. Mages were always open to the Fade because of their magic, but Spirit Healers were even more sensitive. Their powers came directly out of the Fade rather than simply being channeled through a staff or gesture. Because of this, they had an easier time accessing the Fade than other mages. They rarely required the intense rituals and could slip into Dreams at will if there was enough lyrium. "Hold on, Garrett. I'm coming." The mortal realm darkened as the inner door was kicked open and the winds of the Fade called to him.

~

Anders opened his eyes and knew he was in the Fade. The world had the shifting, blurring feel that all mortal dreams possessed. In the distance, he could see a floating dark shadow that was the Black City. He was lying on his back in an open field of swaying gold wheat that stirred in time with the Fade breeze. Anders sat up and looked around. He had not been to this part of the Fade before, as he could not recall visiting a place that had been a near perfect replica of the Bannorn. There was a wind mill on the next hill that let out a loud creak with every other rotation and the shimmering shapes of people harvesting their crops.

He stood up and brushed off his Grey Warden robes. With a flick of his hand he started a basic tracking spell to find any traces of his magic outside his own spirit. To his relief, the spell worked and tugged at him to go north. He followed the white wisp of light as it went further and further into the fields. On the winds, he could hear the sound of people singing a traditional Ferelden work song:

 _Oh child, oh child of Hafter come_  
_There is much work to be done_  
_Springtime has come to end_  
_Days in harvest field we spend_  
_Stalks of dancing amber grain_  
_Watch the moon o'er wane_

It was eerie, as he was not certain if it was an illusion created by the Fade or a lingering memory from the many deceased spirits that had passed this way. He didn't stop to give it much thought, instead focusing on the blinking white light. It led him for some time until he reached a field where he could only see one figure. The person had their back to him and was adorned in the usual work clothes of a farmer. Their long, muscled arms were exposed through a light sleeveless tunic as they swung a sickle through a bundle of wheat. The man didn't seem to notice that there was shimmering wisp not two feet from him and just continued to reap the row of grain. 

"Garrett," Anders called and got no response. "Garrett, can you hear me?" The figure slowly turned to him. Garrett appeared as though he had spent an entire day out in an autumn harvest. His face glinted with beads of sweat and a band of stained cloth was tied around his brow to keep it from dripping down into his eyes. He blinked a few times, as one coming out of a trance might do. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand and dropped the tool. 

"Wha...Where am I?" Garrett asked, "who are you?" Anders tried to take a step forward, but the other mage quickly picked up the blade and raised it defensively, "get back. Who are you? How do you know my name?" Anders held up his hands to show he was no threat.

"Garrett, it's me, Anders. You know me from the Tower." The dark haired mage narrowed his eyes and did not lower his weapon, "please, try to remember me. You were, you are the most important person in the world to me." He attempted to come forward with his upheld hands, but Garrett swung out at him and nearly cut his face. Anders raised a shield to stop him and the display of magic gave Garrett pause.

"Magic...I..I...remember learning. The Tower. You." Garrett scowled and tossed the sickle aside,"bastard." Garrett swung his right arm hard and landed a blow on the left side of Anders' jaw. There was no magic behind the blow, but it had been unexpected and Garrett was very strong from years of hard labor. Anders fell and landed hard on his back. His jaw seared with pain and he briefly wondered if it was broken. It didn't matter, he could fix in a second if it was. Garrett glared down, but kept his fists at his side even as anger made him shake.

"I deserve that." Anders muttered as he rubbed the spot. He was able to get back to his feet, "better now?" Garrett snarled and grabbed the front of his robes. He attempted to push the blonde right back down, but Anders had gotten a hold of his tunic and hung on. The two struggled for balance, Garrett at one point bashing his head into Anders' chin to knock the blonde off. It hurt enough to make his vision spotty and Anders felt a trickle of blood drop down his chin from where his lip had been split. His was still reeling from the head-butt when his back connected with a tree trunk. The breath was knocked out of him in an 'unff'.

"You unbelievable bastard. Why can't you leave me be?" Garrett snapped, his face dropping as he tucked his chin in, "I finally begin to move on with my life. And then here you are. Maker, I should hate you." Garrett looked up, his teeth still bared in anger, but there was now the beginnings of tears in the corners of his eyes. "But I...I can't." The fists in his robes relaxed a bit, but instead of pushing away pulled at him. Garrett let out a broken sound in his throat and pressed his face against his neck. "I can't hate you. I thought about you every day for more than ten years and I still can't move on." Anders could barely breath as Garrett's choked words and sobs were uttered against his neck. He wrapped his arms tight around the other's waist to near rib crushing. Silent tears of his own slipped down his cheeks as he pressed his face into raven hair.

"Garrett, mein herz, I'm so sorry." He reached up to stroke the slightly coarse dark hair, "I'm so sorry for hurting you all those years ago. I never wanted to hurt you, I wish I could undo everything and make it right."

"You are?" Garrett's beard brushed against his throat, a pleasant sensation that was rather distracting.

"Yes, Maker, yes. I've wanted to tell you for so long," Garrett's head tilted back and Anders pressed a kiss to his forehead even as he continued caressing those dark locks. "I missed you so much, mein herz. I always tried to find you when I could escape the Tower, but with the Blight I thought you were dead. I found your farm in ruins and believed the darkspawn had killed you. I was certain you were gone forever and had taken the best of me with you." His breathing hitched with a sob as he remembered one of the worst days of his life. The phantom ache of one's heart being ripped out that he had known so intimately briefly made itself felt once more before being banished back into memory. The natural warm scent of Garrett's hair and it's soft curl grounded him. "But here you are, and I can finally say it." Blue eyes locked with his, "Garrett, my sweetheart, my dearest, I love you."       


	11. Leave This World Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever wondered what mages can get up to in the Fade? Isabela sure has. Can't you see her doing something like this in her friend fiction? Anyway, the two loveidiots have started to get it together and have a little fun before returning to the mortal realm. So, as warned in previous chapter. This is where things get a bit steamy.  
> Suggested songs:  
> Love you till the end - The Pogues  
> Leave this World Alive - Flogging Molly (love this lyrics on this one!)  
> (did have someone say I should suggest some 70's porno music, but no. You're on your own for that one >

As the words left Anders' mouth, a great weight was lifted. He hadn't felt so free in years. The last stones of the walls he had set up around his heart fell. What ever came next, it was up to the younger mage. Garrett had sucked in a sharp breath and briefly looked like a deer caught in a trap. For a second, it appeared as though he might give  into his flight instinct. The next moment he had grabbed the back of Anders' head and was pressing his lips against his in near brutal kiss. It was about as far from a perfect first kiss as one can be. There was too much force and their noses knocked together, but it seemed to be what they needed. A few nervous laughs and a tilt of the head righted things. 

The next was much softer, barely more than a chaste touch of skin. Sweet and slightly shy with undertones of tenderness. Maker, Anders thought, I need to do this again when I wake up. As often as possible and then a little extra. Garrett pressed an apologetic peck to the lower lip that he had split in a moment of unrestrained rage. Anders had healed it with barely an ounce of effort and carried no grudge. Being in the Fade allowed for emotions to run uninhibited and had brought the tightly caged anger and sadness to the surface. With those now resolved, warmer feelings of love and need took hold. 

Anders reached up to cup Garrett's bearded jaw, loving the way the bristles rasped against his skin ever so slightly. Garrett had been quite cute as a teenager, but as an adult he had become an undeniably ruggedly handsome man. Someone that even ten years ago would have had Anders swooning. The thick dark hair was begging for him to touch it as he placed a hand at the nape of Garrett's neck. The kisses did not remain chaste for very long. Anders ran his tongue over the seam of Garrett's lips and they parted for him. He could taste the hint of elfroot on Garrett's mouth and moaned when the other mage's tongue barely brushed his. Garrett stroked the back of his head and pulled his hair free of it's leather tie. Work calloused fingers tangled themselves in his blonde hair and his scalp tingled from fingertips rubbing circles into his skin. Anders playfully nipped at Garrett's lower lip and earned a slight tug at his hair.  

"Maker's blood, I want this." Garrett's voice was husky with hunger as their breath mingled, "Anders, I need you." The blonde could see the heavily dilated eyes that had reduced the blue to a thin ring around the pupil. His hands had managed to slip under the thin tunic Garrett was wearing and touched firm, almost fever hot skin. He had encountered demons of desire more than once in his Fade walks, but none had anything on the man pressed tightly against him.

"I want you too," he knew he should probably say something about attracting unwanted attention in the Fade. It was hard to recall that when a hard, sucking kiss was pressed against the base of his neck just above where it joined his left shoulder. If they had been in the waking world, it would have left a livid passion mark that would last days as it let everyone around know a claim had been made. Anders had never been one to let lovers leave possessive mark on him, always healing such signs of lust shortly after they were made. For Garrett, he'd happily make an exception and let everyone see. As he hissed from the slight stinging that was soothed by Garrett's tongue, his hands slid up the other man's broad back, rucking up the cloth as they went. The muscle beneath the warm skin was hard as iron but flexible and twitching beneath his fingers. Garrett arched underneath the touch like a cat before pulling away and shrugging the garment off.

"Off. Now." Garrett tugged at the fastenings of his robes, almost ripping them as he tried to get them open. It was probably a bad idea, giving into carnal wants in the Fade, but neither cared. A few buttons and a sharp tear of cloth had both down to their skins. Anders took a moment to admire that labor carved body before him. Garrett was built strong with firm shoulders and toned abdominal muscles that could make an Orlesian sculpture envious. His skin had a healthy hint of olive even under his clothes and had a healthy amount of hair on his chest that narrowed at his abdomen down to a single line that trailed beneath his navel. As for the rest, he was well proportioned and clearly interested in carrying things further. He could have spent hours looking at the nude form of his love, but Garrett had other ideas. Garrett urged him to lay down and straddled his thighs to keep most of his weight off him. In reality, it would be dirty and unpleasant to lay down naked and sweaty in a field. The Fade negated the grimy factors, leaving on the sensation of skin sliding together.

"Mein leibe," the blonde let out with a happy sigh as a pair of work hardened hands cupped his face and calloused thumbs brushed his cheekbones.

"I love you too." Garrett said, pressing his forehead against Anders', nuzzling him with the tip of his nose, "only you my love." Another tear made itself down Anders' cheek, this one of pure joy. Garrett gently wiped it away with his thumb and covered his face in soft kisses. The unconditional love the black haired apostate offered was almost overwhelming. His heart ached as it expanded in his chest and all the warmth of spring filled him from head to toe. With a quick move, he rolled them over so that Garrett was now lying on his back with Anders in between his legs. Anders gave him a soft smile before kissing those tempting lips again.

Anders took hold of his wrists, keeping them on either side of his head. He pretended to struggle, but put not real effort in it. He was too enraptured at the hungry look in the amber eyes staring down at him. The pupils were blown wide and nearly consumed the entire eye. Garrett swallowed and felt something in him uncoil. He was no blushing virgin at the wise age of 27, but his previous lovers had always been kept at a distance even in the most intimate moments. With Anders, he did not keep him out. He wanted him to see and take all he had to offer. As if reading the other's mind, Anders' own possessive streak came forward. He was rarely possessive about anything as most things in life came and went. It was simply a fact when one was a Circle Mage. But both were free men now.

"Mine." The blonde leaned down to kiss him without releasing his wrists. Garrett did struggle a bit more now wanting to wrap his arms around the other man. He opened his mouth again and let the blonde plunder him. Let him mark him like he owned him. Anders kissed him deep and wet for a time, tasting every inch of what was his. Eventually, he slowly pulled back and released Garrett's wrists. The dark haired mage buried a hand his hair and placed the other on the middle of his back. Garrett was breathing heavily as he pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat. The slight rasp of his beard seemed intensified now and the blonde's eyes almost rolled back as he gasped. Upon seeing the reaction, Garrett repeated it slower and added a small bite at his chin. 

"Mine." Garrett echoed back. Yes, I am yours and you are mine, both thought. Anders pulled away just enough to look down at the other mage. Garrett was spread out before him like a feast. And he was feeling very, very hungry. He licked his lips and leaned back down to kiss Garrett nearly hard enough to bruise. He began working his way down the other mage's long form. He started by tasting and nipping at the tendons in his neck and shoulders. His shoulders were as a hard as those of any day laborer and the firm muscles just begged him to bite. Next he worked his way to his chest. The pectorals were strong and broad with a dark dusting of hair. The nipples were dark and pebbled. He took one in his mouth and laved at it before tucking it between his teeth and gently biting down. The mix of pain and pleasure caused the other man to buck up and moan. Seeing how sensitive his liebling was there, he did the same to the other nipple. Garrett thrashed under him as he pinched and rolled the nipple not currently in his mouth. "Please." He begged, for more, for less, for both? Garrett wasn't sure, but knew he didn't want it to stop. Anders pulled of and smiled up at him.

"Please, what? Stop?" Garrett shook his head hastily, "what then? Tell me, leibe."

"More, please, more." Anders grinned at the whine in Garrett's voice, moving up to kiss him on the mouth. Garrett whimpered and held onto his shoulders tightly.

"See, all you had to do was ask." He wiggled free of Garrett's grasp and continued moving down the other mage's body. He grazed his teeth along the solid muscles of his abdomen, admiring the contrast of soft skin and hard muscle as it twitched beneath his mouth. Maker, he was almost jealous himself of the toned core Garrett had built over the years. Not that he was flabby or soft by any means. His body was all long, lean muscle rather than the dense mass Garrett's was. He would have to get Garrett to be on top sometime, pressing him down with that heavy, loving body. Maker, that idea of his Garrett covering him like that made blood rush south and certain parts ache with want.  

He turned his attention back to the moment by focusing on those long legs. Not as long as his, but not bowed or squat like many who worked years of hard back breaking labor. Strong hands massaged Garrett's thighs as the blonde continued to torture him. The muscles tensed to cable rigor as open mouth kisses placed on the inner thighs. Anders finally took pity on him and turned his attentions elsewhere.

Sweet Maker, he was magnificent. It was a bit shorter than his own, but a bit thicker. The Maker had been generous to Garrett when he had created him. A few drops leaked from the tip. Anders licked them up greedily. His first impression was of salt. Garrett was gripping the sheets in a vice grip now as he tried to keep his hips relatively still. Anders rewarded him by taking the head of his cock into his mouth and sucking. Another taste of salt and musk hit his tongue. He worked his way down until he had swallowed him to the hilt. He could feel the tip hitting the back of his throat as his nose was buried in dark curls. He could smell and taste the other man's arousal and by Andraste's tits that was intoxicating. He began working the length in his mouth in a steady rhythm, tracing the veins with his tongue as he moved his mouth up and down. Garrett had both hands firmly on the back of his head now. He tugged at his hair, but not too hard, just enough to give a hint of pain. As Anders felt his throat relax, he encouraged the other mage to take his mouth, moaning when Garrett hit the back of his throat with a deep thrust.

Anders was pulled off with a wet pop. It took a moment to get his voice back as Garrett dragged him upwards to kiss him again.

"I don't want it to be over so soon." Garrett panted, the wet head of his erection brushing his lover's abdomen as the two moved together, "not yet."

"Alright," the blonde breathed, "what would you like?" He would let Garrett control the pace. He was the more experienced one and had no preference either way so long as both men enjoyed themselves. Garrett blushed a bit, which was probably even more adorable in these intimate moments.

"I want you in me." Garrett seemed almost shy now, "if that's ok." Anders smiled and gave him a short peck on the lips.

"Of course it is." In the Fade, there was no need for the preparation that was required in the mortal plane. If one wanted something, it simply was. He wanted to make love to Garrett, so the Fade made it happen. He was curious to see how Garrett would react though. He could see that Garrett was fully aroused now, his cock dripping precome onto his belly. He licked up some of the drops, purring against the taut muscles of Garrett's abdomen. He trailed a finger down past the younger man's cock and balls to the quivering ring of muscle behind them. He circled the ring, barely putting any pressure before slowly sliding the first knuckle of one finger in. Garrett was tight around him as he slowly worked the first finger in. There was no pain as they were in a dream. He took the other man's cock back into his mouth and laved at the head with his tongue. With some patience he was able to work in a second. When he felt the muscles relax a bit he spread the fingers to stretch him more. Garrett moaned as he touched him in that unfamiliar place, as he had never allowed another to have him in such a way. A third finger was added and he found Garrett's sweet spot. The other mage arched off the ground as sparks shot behind his eyes.

"Again, please," his pleas were rewarded with another stroke to the spot. He continued to stretch and work him open, determined to make it as pleasurable for both as possible. "Now, I need you now," Garrett begged. Anders pulled his fingers free from Garrett's tight entrance and quickly moved to position himself. Garrett took Anders in hand and stroked him, reveling in the noises he drew out of his lover. Anders whimpered and bucked into the other man's grasp. He nearly came right then and there. He managed to get himself under control and remove Garrett's hand. He had heard of Grey Warden stamina, but this was not the time to test it.

He moved to lie between Garrett's legs and positioned himself carefully against his lover. He took himself in hand and slowly pushed in. Garrett spread his legs wider to make it easier and he felt the head of his cock pass through the rings of muscle. Slowly, inch by inch he could feel himself sinking inside the tight heat of his lover. Garrett gasped as he felt the hard, unyielding length penetrate him. He could feel the barest twinges of burning, but it was hardly anything. The whole of what was happening came down on him at that moment as their flesh became one. They had ceased to exist as two beings and continued as one. It was agony, it was perfection, it was more than he had ever thought it could be. Tears pricked his eyes and he felt Anders kiss them away, brushing his cheek as he whispered soothing sweet nothings. He could take this little pain if it meant greater pleasure was bound to come. He tugged Anders down for a sloppy open mouthed kiss that distracted him from his thoughts. His body relaxed further, allowing the blonde to slide in deeper. Anders moaned as he was buried to the hilt inside his lover.

It was better than anything he had ever experienced. He could feel the muscles of his lover's heat twitching and clenching around him, keeping him close. He waited for Garrett's body to adjust to him before he started moving. He pulled out just a bit before thrusting back in. Garrett moaned as the head of his cock hit that wonderful spot inside him. Garrett wrapped his legs tight around his waist and looped his arms around Anders' neck.

"Say it, please." Anders whispered into Garrett's ear, "my name, my real name, say it." He had never given his real name to any of his other lovers. He had never wanted to before. It was something that could be used against him if given to the wrong person. But with Garrett, it had a safe place. Garrett pulled his head down so that their foreheads were touching, their lips barely an inch apart.

"Wil, my Wilhelm. I love you, Wilhelm Von Huldibrand."

"And I love you, Garrett Hawke." He picked up the pace, thrusting hard and deep inside in lover, both now breathing hard as they moved together. Garrett's hard cock throbbed between them as Anders continued to thrust inside him, flexing and angling his hips to hit all the places that made him gasp and moan. A slight adjust of his hips helped the blonde find that spot inside Garrett repeatedly. Garrett clawed at his shoulder as a shower of sparks went off behind his eyes. Waves of bliss shot up and down his spine as the bundle of nerves inside him was hit again and again. Everything around him fell away except for the man moving above him. The breathes and moans against his ear as the blonde pressed as deep as he could. The slap of skin as they moved together.

He couldn't form any words beyond 'yes' and 'Anders' as pleasure began to overwhelm him. He was so close, just needed a bit of help to reach that edge.  Anders reached between their bodies and wrapped a hand around Garrett's slick cock bringing him over the edge. Garrett's body arched off the bed and tightened to the point of near pain as climax washed over him. A few more thrusts inside that rhythmically clenching passage and Anders was spilling himself inside his lover.

He carefully pulled out and moved to lay beside Garrett. For a few moments neither of them said anything as they caught their breaths and basked in the afterglow. Garrett eventually rolled onto his side to cuddle up to the blonde. 

Garrett dropped his head to rest on Anders' shoulder and threw an arm across his waist, "I should tell you now, I've never been a man before, well until now." Well, so much as an amazing experience in the Fade counted. He found himself eager to repeat it outside the Fade. It would be interesting to compare the real thing to the dream. He let out a contented humming noise as Anders stroked his scalp. The blonde briefly stopped when he realized what Garrett had told him. Anders lifted his head. He would never have guessed that he would be Garrett's first. The man was too damned good looking for him to have hoped otherwise. "That doesn't bother you does it?"

"Why would it?" He pressed a kiss to Garrett's sweat soaked forehead, "So long as I'm your last." Garrett nuzzled his chest and snuggled close.

"I want you beside me till the day we die." Something tightened in Anders' chest. He knew that with the taint in his body that day was closer than he cared to think. He couldn't give him the decades a normal person could, but he would make the best of the time the Maker would give them.

"I'm not going anywhere," it was probably wrong to say as he had no idea what would happen once they awoke. They would have to go back to Kirkwall and then what? Would they be able to maintain a relationship despite being in different cities? Would the Commander let him have time to visit his love? The life of a Warden was not one suited for family. Still, they were in a dream and it seemed the right thing to say. They could make it work, surely they would. "I'll be there when you wake up." He kissed him again, letting a bit of his spirit magic flow between them.

"I'll see you soon my love." Garrett whispered against his mouth. The dream began to fade around them as they returned to their bodies. Just before the dream ended, Anders could have sworn he saw someone in the distance that was watching them. They wore a cloak and rested their weight on a walking stick that had a passing resemblance to an oar. He blinked and they were gone, as if they had never been there at all.

~

Anders awoke staring up at a curved wooden ceiling that had a number of dried herbs swaying above him. He could feel something warm pressed against his side. He turned his head and saw a familiar head of dark hair. Garrett was on his side, just as he had been in the Fade, with an arm wrapped tight around his waist. Those deep blue eyes opened and stared at him with a hint of trepidation. Deciding to make the first move this time, Anders tilted his head down to kiss him. Garrett was still under his lips for a second before returning the kiss. It was short and soft. Garrett smiled against his lips before pulling back to look him in the eyes again.

"Hello mein leibe." Garrett's eyes brimmed with happiness at the whispered words.

"Hello sweetheart." 

    


	12. Hidden in Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So our heroes get their acts together, but it would seem that Fate might have other plans. Remember how the hero of Ferelden disappears? What if the reason he vanished had nothing to do with seeking a way to avoid the Calling? It would seem that there are already things working in the shadows against the Hero and the Champion. Things that have slept for long ages and bound by dark magics.  
> Sorry for the long delay, but just finishing up Inquisition so I could write a short sequel once this work is done. Next Chapter will be much longer.

Garrett had been slow to return to the waking world. Everything felt heavy and his abdomen ached as if the staff was still impaling him. The trauma of his wound had been enough to snap the links on his mortal coil and let his spirit roam free in the Fade. His body might have died or kept going in a comatose state for the rest of his life if Anders had not called him back. Oh, his mind came to a screeching halt, oh my. As a free spirit in the Fade, his consciousness had not been inhibited by his normal need for civility or emotional restrictions. He had lashed out, nearly breaking Anders' jaw with a sharp right hook and split his lip with a blow to the chin. Maker, he'd never given to his darker emotions so strongly before. Then he had confessed about still carrying a torch for the other mage and was certain he'd be told that it was simply one sided pining. It was stupid to hope for reciprocation after all this time. Even if the other mage felt guilty for hurting his feelings all those years ago, it was likely he had moved on and even had someone waiting for him back in Ferelden. But then the world was knocked out from under him again with three simple words. 

His heart stopped. Then it beat so fast it nearly stopped again. They had kissed. Badly at first, but that didn't matter. Maybe it was foolish to ignore the dream and give into desire, but he could care less. Old longings had been temporarily fulfilled as they found themselves entwined as one. As we, oh merciful Andraste, Garrett could feel the heat rising on the back of his neck as he remembered the exquisite round of making love. To Anders. He'd never felt so close to any previous partners and given away every bit of himself in that moment. For good or ill, his heart and soul had ceased to belong him. In the afterglow of passion, he had told the other mage he wanted to be with him forever. The cocktail of emotions and oxytocin had given him a rush of confidence and bliss that had enabled him to believe the Grey Warden when he had said yes. He had allowed himself to be called back to his body and work his way back to wakefulness after kissing the blonde one more time.

The reality of everything that had been said and done hit him like an ogre's fist. A dream was simply that. A dream. What if he awoke and Anders had changed his mind? Or it had all been in his head? The fear of it all being a cruel illusion was enough to make him stay in a prolonged doze. He couldn't stay forever and returned to awareness reluctantly.

The first thing had noticed was that he was lying on his side pressed tightly against something solid. It was warm too. His fuzzy mind recognized it as a person as he could feel the steady rise and fall of their chest with each breath. He cracked open his eyes and found Anders next to him. His head was turned towards him with those amber eyes locked on his face. Hesitation constricted his tongue and he couldn't muster enough courage to string together even two words. As if sensing Garrett's worry, Anders had given him a gentle smile and then reached over to cup his chin to kiss him. Fears were dispelled in seconds and Garrett returned the kiss with a contented hum.

"Hello mein leibe." His ribcage threatened to crack open from the surge of joy that filled it.

"Hello sweetheart." They didn't say anything else for a while. They just held each other and interspersed the caresses with a few kisses. Garrett was happy to stay wrapped around his love, attempting to make up for the decade of time they had missed.

"Hawke?" Garrett opened his eyes again. He had tucked his head under Anders' as he used the other mage's chest for a pillow. The hand that had been caressing the dark hair at the back of his head stilled. He didn't want to get up, but Garrett recognized the voice. Feynriel. It would appear that they were in one of the aravels of the Sundermount camp. Garrett grumbled a bit, but sat up. His coat and tunic were gone, but he was still clad in a pair of trousers. He opened the closed door at the other end of the caravan and found a young elf blooded apostate waiting for him. The young man looked a bit admonished when he saw the lack of clothes. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt or  anything..."

"It's fine." Garrett waved it off, "do you need something?"

"There's someone who wants to speak with you. I wouldn't keep Asha'bellanar waiting." Garrett nodded and thanked him. He found that there was a shirt set by the small door waiting for him. It was a bit small, but it was probably better not to show up without being properly attired. He was tying on his boots when Anders came up beside him, confused as to what could motivate Garrett to move so quickly. He could see the thin webwork of scars along Garrett's back when he had bent over to tie his shoes. He had known from the healing that the extent of the damage, but was surprised how well the scars had knit together. 

"Everything alright?" Garrett tied off the last boot before answering.

"Not sure, but it's never a good thing to keep a Witch of the Wilds waiting."

"Witch of the Wilds? Wait, Flemeth?" Garrett gave another nod, "but she's dead. The Commander slew her in the Blight. It must be an imposter."

"I hate to tell you this, but she's very much alive. Though why she wants to see me again, I have no idea. I did a task for her once to pay her back for helping us outrun the darkspawn, but I thought that would be the last time we'd meet." Garrett could still hear the roar of the dragon as it rained down fire on a small legion of darkspawn. The dragon that had turned into a witch and offered them a chance to live if they were willing to take it. Not wanting to risk another attack by ogres and hurlocks, Garrett had agreed to her request. He had no idea why he did it. He could have tossed the locket in the ocean and ended Flemeth forever. Still, it was better safe than sorry when it came to dealing with creatures beyond one's understanding.

"I can't believe you actually met her." Garrett gave a half smile, "I think I need to hear this story, though probably your version and not Varric's."

"As you wish. Though it's probably less exciting." Once both had properly dressed, they walked together down to Keeper Marethari's aravel. The elder elf was speaking with a woman dressed in a rather exotic red leather get up that had was complimented by wild, iron hair. The Keeper kept a polite distance from the Witch and seemed relieved when Garrett arrived. 

"Aneth ara Hawke, andaran atish'an Warden, it is good to see you awake. You slumbered for almost two days." The two mages gave her a look, amazed that so much time had passed. For them it had barely been a few hours in the Fade, but time had no rules outside the mortal realm. The Keeper gave Garrett an almost motherly expression, "Merrill sought help from a hunting party that was near the caves and had them bring you here. I feared the worst when I saw that your magic was extinguished."

"I'm sorry for causing a fuss." Garrett said, "but I appreciate your hospitality as always. Ma serranas, ma melava halani Keeper." His use of the elven language caught the attention of both Asha'bellanar and Anders. It was rare for a human to know more than a few words of elvish. Even more rare when it was used properly. Garrett had been learning from Feynriel whenever he came to visit the young man. The boy's mother had taught him the language of her people since he was babe, enabling him to live easier among the Dalish clan despite his human blood. In exchange for the language lessons, Garrett would teach him some basic primal spells and occasionally bits of basic magic theory that one learned from the Circle.

"Again, you are a surprise," Flemeth laughed, a dry sound that sent shivers down the spines of the two mages. "So few people take the time to listen."

"It's always good to be able to communicate with one's neighbors and Kirkwall is barely stone's throw from here. Also, I hear it's bad to not do what dragons tell you. They might get grumpy and eat you." This only made the old woman laugh again. Anders didn't like it. It sounded harsh and dry, like stones being tossed down an empty well. He was also sure that one doesn't sass a creature of legend and come away with all their limbs. But the sarcasm seemed to amuse rather than, so he let it go.

"How true. But it would be a shame to eat such an interesting person. You have quite the journey ahead and should be wary about those you choose to hold close." Her gold reptilian eyes slid over to the Grey Warden. Garrett suddenly grabbed Anders' hand and gave the witch a hard look. Anders and the witch looked into each other's eyes. The unyielding gaze almost made him flinch and he gripped the warm hand wrapped around his. "Don't worry my pretty boy, I'm not talking about you. Yet."

"Then who?" Garrett asked, not in the mood for any of Flemeth's tricks. The witch played a long, widespread game that could take years, even decades to completely unfold if the stories about her and King Maric were true.

"Calm yourself child, today I am not your enemy. There are those who have started to take notice of you. They creep in the shadows from now, hidden even from me. But they won't stay there forever." There was a hint of sadness in her voice as she continued, "you will lose much in coming days, but you will also gain what you need to find your place. I suggest you do not cling to your regrets lest they poison your heart. It is a fate I am well acquainted with."

"Can I stop it?" The witch briefly looked like an old woman crushed by the heavy burden of a life filled with mistakes and loss.

"No man can cheat Fate. You can fight all you like, but it is inevitable." She addressed Anders next, "Warden, pass on a message to your Commander. Tell him the Architect of Beauty is only one of the seven. The eldest sleeps for now, but he will awaken and attempt to tear open the skies. There are traitors in your own ranks who will help him bring about this misery and they are already planning to do away with those who would stand against them. Your Commander cannot afford to be so public much longer." The Architect, that monstrous darkspawn that had used Grey Warden blood to 'awaken' his darkspawn brethren. It had experimented on the Commander and Ander when they had been exploring an old mine shaft in the Wending Woods. His memory was fuzzy but he remembered the thing cutting his arms and draining a large amount of his blood as it muttered apologies. The creature had been useful in helping them get rid of the Mother, so the Commander had allowed it to live in the hopes of preventing a future Blight. But to hear that there were people in the Grey Wardens that supported something even darker, something that would rip open the heavens, was disturbing. He had grown up in the Anderfels and seen the power the Order exercised over the people. When one fell out of favor, the consequences could be deadly. More than a few Anderfel kings had their throats cut when their tongues spoke ill of their lofty friends. Whatever was coming, it was bad. The blood drained from his face and his heart plummeted into his belly. Garrett just looked at Anders, not understanding the message, but could see that such news was terribly distressing. 

"I'll make sure he knows." He would have to tell Garrett about that bloody awful year in Amaranthine the next chance he got. As for the rest, he would have to let the Commander handle it as he saw fit.

"Good, it would be terrible for my grandson's father to die so soon." The looks on the mages' faces sent her into a another dry laugh, "oh, yes, the Warden Commander has his secrets. Some more innocent than others, but have you ever wondered how it is he is the only Warden to slay an Archdemon and live? I suggest you ask while you can." The Witch suddenly glowed and Garrett knew what that meant. He had seen her do so once before at the shrine to Mythal on Sundermount's summit. He pulled the other mage back to avoid being stepped on by a dragon. The old woman vanished and a deep scarlet high dragon stood in her place. With a loud roar and a powerful sweep of her wings, the dragon was in the air and flying away from the Dalish camp.

"Well, that explains a few things...I guess." Garrett just shrugged. One never could know the whole of the truth when it came to dealing with witches.

~

_He was sitting on a boat. That was the first thing Anders realized as he awoke in the Fade. The next that he was not alone. There was a man in a hood at the front of the small boat pushing them along with his oar. The man did not turn when Anders tried to get his attention, simply continuing his slow methodical rowing._

_"Be silent. There are dark spirits close by and it would be unwise to attract their attention." The ferryman finally spoke. His voice was deep and had an antiquated accent Anders was not familiar with. He did not question his guide though and remained quiet as they continued down the river._

_After some time, the ferrymen stopped and tied the small boat off. He did not set aside the oar and carried it like a walking staff. He motioned for Anders to follow him up a rocky hill that overlooked a ruined stone temple. Anders could see light coming from within the building and hear the faint screams of someone being tortured. Bursts of lightning sliced across the foggy sky above them as shadows of grotesque beasts slithered across the stone. There was the distinct urge to run and flee from this abominable scene. A strong hand on his upper arm kept him from giving into his fears. He could see pale tribal markings on the ferryman's hand, white and blue swirling patterns covered the knuckles. He glanced at his hooded companion and tried to get a look at the man's face. From the shadows of the hood, he could only see a chin with a trimmed dark silvering beard. "_   _T_ _he Fade holds the memories of things men long to forget. It remembers our trespasses, our pathetic attempts to usurp the Holy." He raised a tattooed hand and pointed upwards. Anders saw that there was a shimmering rift floating far above them. "It was our vanity the Old Ones used against us. Turned our priests into monsters and our lands fallow." The green rift expelled several shadows that had a passing similarity to humans, but twisted and feral. The shadows let out shrill howls of pain and anger before melting away into the Fade._

_"Is this? Is this the magisters who started the Blight?" The ferryman nodded, "but  it's just a story. It has to be."_

_"I wish it were so, but it is not. The Elder Ones brought sickness with them and poisoned all Living creatures. The mortal realm was nearly destroyed when the Silent One led an army of monsters. It was only a few who stood against the darkness that ended the nightmare. The Silent One was slain and the Elders trapped by the very people they had once served. The Grey Ones sealed them away as they could not die by the hands of men. One has slipped his shackles and seeks to infect all with his sickness. The Eldest still slumbers, but he will not remain so forever. The blood of Old Tevinter, my children, held him for long ages, but the chain is thin and the bloodline nearly spent." The ferryman seemed deeply saddened and leaned heavily on his oar. A pair of bright, lyrium blue eyes glinted at Anders from the shadow of his hood. "He will come to light once more and the world will bleed."_

 ~

Anders awoke in a cold sweat as the dream dissolved in the night. For a brief moment, in the dark, he forgot where he was. The all encompassing darkness made him think he was back in the solitary cells deep in Kinloch Hold's lowest levels. That he was back in the forgotten places where he would scream until his vocal chords were bleeding for someone, anyone to let him out. Before a full blown panic could take hold, he felt someone stir next to him.

Anders was safe. He was in the Free Marches, a sanctioned mage in the Grey, and reunited with his soul mate. 

After spending an evening convincing Varric and Merrill that everything was fine, they had returned to the aravel together. Varric shot Anders a smirk as they walked side by side with fingers barely brushing. As soon as the door shut behind them, Garrett wrapped him in a tight embrace and a sharp tug on his shirt collar pulled him down for a searing kiss. It was clear that Garrett was just as interested as him in a repeat of their time together in the Fade. In the faint streams of moonlight, Anders could see the soft look of affection filling those lovely ocean blue eyes. Garrett gently tugged him back as he moved to lay down on the cot at the back of the aravel. He looked up from his back and smiled as Anders moved to lay down between his legs. The passion from earlier had settled some, but still burned in the background. This time, in the real world, they took their time. Much later, exhausted and sated, Anders had fallen asleep curled up against Garrett's back. The other mage had been out cold when Anders awoke and tightened his grip around Garrett's waist. Garrett had barely stirred and sunk back into slumber when Anders relaxed his arm.  He laid his hand over Garrett's heart and buried his nose in the dark hair at the nape of his neck. He didn't fall back asleep that night, instead dozing on and off as he felt the heart he thought gone forever thrummed steadily under his hand. Tomorrow and the days after were uncertain, but tonight Anders knew he wasn't going anywhere. 

 

Translations

Aneth ara Hawke, andaran atish'an Warden - Hello Hawke, Welcome to this place Warden (the first is the informal greeting, used for friends and family by the Dalish. The second is more formal and used for outsiders.)

 Ma serranas, ma melava halani Keeper - Thank you, you gave me shelter Keeper.


	13. Softening the Rolling Thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, had to rewrite a rather large portion of the story but it shouldn't take so long as the story progresses and newer chapters are posted. A lot of fluff in this chapter since there's to be many challenges ahead for our heroes. Also, another chapter that earns the story's E rating.

_He sleeps so deep, so still at peace, and quiet thus_  
_No frightful dreams, of battle's roar, that shake his trust_  
_I hope that he, is dreaming on, of better days_  
_The morning fog, and waking sun, have healing ways_  
_I'll let him sleep, and soundly lay_  
_A monument to him I pray_  
  
_Because he's safe in arms now, what luck have I that I should see_  
_Safe in arms now, my bloody boy returned to me_  
_From Jericho back home to me_  
  
_For bruises fade, no traces left, as quick as frost_  
_And never will, I have to know, a lover lost_  
_My peace is made, my doubts rolled up, my bed complete_  
_His waking gaze, and heart and soul, light on my sheets_  
_Because he's safe in arms now, what luck have I that I should see_  
  
_Safe in arms now, my bloody boy returned to me_  
_From Jericho back home to me_

_-'Safe in Arms' - The Scarlet Furies_

Garrett awoke first the following morning. It was still early with only the faintest grey light of predawn coming in through the slits of the small windows of the aravel. He laced his fingers with the warm sleeping hand that was resting over his sternum. Garrett closed his eyes again and focused on the feeling of Anders pressed tightly against his back. Slow, deep breathing against the crown of his head and a steady heart beat against his spine confirmed that his lover was still dreaming in the Fade. It was tempting to join him in dreams, but Garrett didn't want to miss out on the opportunity to revel in this closeness. He had a strong feeling that upon relaying Flemeth's message that Commander Cousland would take his Wardens back to Ferelden without delay. It wasn't illogical for Cousland to suspect that if the Wardens in Weisshaupt were planning to do away with him, that they would also be considering doing the same to those he had recruited. Those that might be used as leverage against him.

It made a small flame of anger burn inside his chest as he thought about what they might do to Anders and Bethany. Both important to the Commander and precious to Garrett. Both were suprisingly resilient in the face of danger, but fragile in the grand scheme of fate and slain just as easily as any other mortal. Red tinted his vision as vivid images of slit throats and poisoned lips swam in Garrett's mind. Such trespasses would not go unpunished. He would hunt down the First Warden and ring the life out of him with his own bare hands if anything happened to his loved ones. Garrett didn't realize how much he had tensed up until the arm slung around his waist tightened and he heard a murmur of his name against his ear. His body slowly relaxed and he loosened the vice grip he had on Anders' hand. He let out a sharp exhale as he forced himself to let go of his anxiety for the moment. He wouldn't allow it or far away enemies to take away his ability to enjoy what time he had left with Anders.

"Leibe?" Anders' tone was soft and concerned as his lips brushed the shell of Garrett's ear. He ran a hand down Garrett's uncovered flank. The muscles twitched under satin soft skin as the touch bordered on being ticklish. Wanting to be held, Garrett turned to lay on his other side and gently pushed Anders onto his back. He wrapped an arm and a leg around him, entwining their limbs as he laid his head on the other mage's shoulder. He felt safe and cherished when they lay like this. When Anders ran his fingers through his thick hair and lightly caressed his scalp, he almost purred like a cat. 

"Can we stay like this? Just for a little while?" Garrett asked, shutting his eyes again and nestling close. He got not protest from Anders. The blonde had no qualms about holding his sweetheart. Anders had closed his eyes as well as he continued stroking those lovely dark locks when he noticed the swirling pattern Garrett was tracing across his skin. It was just wide loops at first, swirling over and over in no particular pattern. It was when Garrett let out another deep breath the pattern changed from swirling loops to a heart. Three across his chest, the number being considered lucky in Ferelden. It was not uncommon for those living in the agricultural areas who wished luck in love to tie three knots in a red cord and wear it around their wrists. The number of days it stayed on indicated the number of years the lovers would have together. It was silly and frowned on in some of the more urban areas that had shed their Alamarri and Avaar heritage, but still very popular in the Bannorn and other small villages south of the Frostbacks. More than once during his escapes, Anders had seen young men and women with such adornments and envied them. In the present, it made him all the more determined to treasure every minute the Maker allowed him and Garrett.

"I love you," he said, Garrett sitting up a bit so that he was leaning over him, "I want to tell you that everyday, as often as I can." He reached up to cup Garrett's jaw. The dark haired mage smiled and pressed as kiss to the palm.

"I love you too. No matter what comes next, I will always love you." Anders felt his heart rise in his throat and threaten to choke him. Again, he wanted to tell Garrett the truth about the Joining and the price that came with it. The shortened life and death in the forgotten places deep in the earth that awaited all Wardens. It would break the mage's heart to realize he had been cheated and would soon lose Anders to the toxic sludge in his blood. He didn't want to see the hurt it would cause. He had caused Garrett enough grief as it was. In truth, if he were a better man, it would have been kinder to let Garrett go and live a full life with another. With someone who could give him the decades and even family that the Warden could not. But he had always been a bit selfish and was not about to relinquish the one bright light in his life. He would answer the Maker when the time came and hope for mercy. 

"Liebling," words failed him and instead of speaking he pressed his forehead against Garrett's. There was a mingling of breath and Garrett pressed a kiss Anders' brow, understanding him without words. Garrett gave him another smile before laying back down and pulling up the blanket that had fallen off to tuck them back under the soft wool cover. They stayed there as the sun slowly rose up over the mountains and the light changed from silvery to red. It was only when they heard Garrett's mabari snuffling at the door and lightly scratching at the door. There wasn't enough room for two grown men and a war dog to sleep comfortably in the aravel, so Archon had bunked with Merrill instead. Not that the dog minded, Merrill would tell him stories and spoil him with treats whenever she had the chance.

Garrett sat up when he heard the dog whining and knew it was time for them to get up. When they had dressed and left the aravel, they found the mabari sitting at the foot the small ladder outside. It stood up on it's hind legs and gave both mages a drooly kiss. Anders spluttered and wiped the small string of saliva dripping of his cheek.

"Good boy," Garrett laughed and gave the dog a firm rubbing on the thick scruff of the neck. Anders rolled his eyes and just shook his head. He could never understand the appeal of drooly dogs, but he was happy to see Garrett acting more lively. The previous day the mage had still been quite pale and weary from his injuries. He still had a bit of a pallor, but the natural ruddiness had started to come back to his face. 

 "This is why I prefer cats, no drool," the blonde wiped his face again to remove any lingering saliva. The mabari whined and it's ears drooped a bit, "don't look at me like that. Stop." Garrett just shook his head at the two. Maker, why did he have to fall in love with someone who liked cats better than dogs. 

"Hawke, lethallin," Merrill climbed out of the small aravel she had slept in the night before. She smiled as she saw how much better the mage seemed than the day before. The  mabari perked up and bounded up to greet the tiny elven woman. Unlike Anders, she had no complaints about dog drool. "You seem less grumpy today, both of you. Varric, do humans always get less grumpy after walking in the Fade?" Both men colored at the memory of their trip to the Fade and all that had entailed. Doubtless, Merrill would never imagine what they had gotten up to. Garrett was glad that Isabela wasn't there, she would have let out a stream of innuendos that would make the mage blush and only confuse the Dalish girl further. Varric might poke fun at his friend and even try to wring out a few details for his next tale of Hawke, but he didn't make it so obvious that Merrill would even notice.

"No idea, Daisy," Varric said with a smirk. "dwarves don't go to the Fade when we dream. Maybe Hawke can explain it better being a mage and all the weird shit that entails."

"I think you or Isabela can tell Merrill all about it without me." Garrett shook his head. Though he did hope that it would be Varric rather than Isabela that answered such questions if Merrill did end up asking.

"There's something you two aren't telling me," Merrill pouted, "that's not fair."

"We'll tell you when you're older Daisy." Merrill went on to complain about already being older than them even if she didn't look it. It only made the dwarf and mage laugh, but in a warm, endearing way that one does with close friends and family rather than derisive or mocking. Seeing that she would not get an answer from either, Merrill dropped the question and instead focused on giving the mabari a big belly rub when the furry beast came up to give her a morning kiss.

After making sure they had everything packed and now carrying a response to Arianni's letter, it was time to head back to Kirkwall. They were supposed to be back a day ago, so it was probably wise to not dally. There was no need to have the Warden Commander send out a search party when one of his people appeared to have gone missing. In comparison to earlier in the adventure the trip back to the city was uneventful with no bandits or maleficarum to slow them down. It was almost a walk through the park, but with more hills and a giggling Dalish blood mage looking at the two human mages with wide almost sparkly eyes. Despite still not completely understanding why her human friends were so happy she was almost cooing about how adorable they were together. Varric would just roll his eyes and say how it was almost too much even for him. Not that Anders or Garrett paid them any mind. They shared a few soft looks as they walked, at one point even holding hands. It was something no mage would ever have dared to even dream of in the Circle.     

Too soon they were walking through the city gates. Varric and Merrill said their goodbyes as they headed towards Lowtown as the mages began climbing the numerous stairs to Hightown. There was a casual offer of a few rounds of ale and a game of Wicked Grace at the Hanged Man should they have the chance. Garrett doubted he or Anders would make it to the tavern later, but thanked Varric anyway and promised to drop by if they had the time.

At the estate's door, Garrett paused. Once they were on the other side of it there was the inevitable plunge into a twisted rabbit hole that could just as much be a trap as a haven. Garrett had done as the witch asked, but the Warden had slain her in the Blight. While there was the chance she was actually giving the Hero aid, it was also quite possible this was a small part of a revenge scheme. Either way, it would likely end with the two mages having to say good bye once more.

"Crossing the River Dane?" Anders said, thinking similar thoughts. Garrett gave him a grim smile and nodded.

"I think I'd prefer to fight chevaliers than deal with witches. At least they stay dead when you kill them." They found the entry hall empty even though there was a large fire glowing in the hearth. The dwarf footman had a habit of making a roaring fire even in the middle of the hottest days of summer. It wouldn't be so terrible if he would clean it every so often rather than letting the ashes pile up. The mabari brushed against his master's hip before laying down on a pillow set aside for him at the hearth side. Other than the dog's snores, the house seemed silent. Given the lack of noise at first, Garrett thought that the Commander might still be taking care of business outside Kirkwall. That would have been lovely if only to give the mages an extra day or so. This hope is quickly dashed though when he heard several voices coming from the library. The Commander was chatting animatedly with Nathaniel Howe and Bethany about the rather ridiculous nature of Freemarcher arrogance. 

Bethany and Nathaniel were laughing and cozying up together on the couch as Cousland was doing a rather impressive impersonation of the Warden Constable at Ansburg. The man apparently had a snobbish attitude even as he dealt with the superior officer. He had muttered 'dog-lords' under his breath every chance he got. It wouldn't have been so bad if Nate wasn't so sure the man had spit into the cups of wine he had offered his fellow Wardens. Seeing a glob of phlegm floating in his glass was almost enough to make Nate consider using one of his less lethal poisons on the man. Maybe the swine's manners would improve if he found his tongue swollen and covered in orange spots. Cousland had been tempted to look the other way and let Nate have his wish, but decided it was probably more trouble than it was worth. The momentary joy of seeing the Free Marcher shrieking as his tongue became to bloated for his mouth would be quashed to nothing once months of tedious apologies were issued to the Warden Commander of Ansburg. Instead, the two pretended to lose their grips on the glasses and feigned dismay at the mess it made. The Constable must have been disappointed when he didn't get to see them choke on the wine from the slight redness of his ears, but only barked sharp orders at the serving girl to clean up the mess. To make up for the anxiety it must have caused the young woman, Aedan had slipped her a sovereign for her trouble and was delighted to see a small grin on her pale face.

Aedan had just finished his story and was taking a drink of whiskey from his lucky silver flask when he saw the two mages. The wide smile on the Commander's face fell when he saw the grim look on both of their faces.

"Did someone die?" Garrett shook his head.

"It's more that someone didn't. Flemeth has a message for you. About Weisshaupt." The Commander's face went completely gray and he had to sit down. Flemeth, the Witch had survived after all. He should have known that a few swords and some ice spells wouldn't be enough to keep that abomination dead. Still, why would she give him a message about Weisshaupt? His relationship with the Warden's headquarters in the Anderfels wasn't the best as they were still harassing him about how he had managed to slay the Archdemon and still drew breath. It must be serious if she were lending her would be killer aid.

"Maker, I'd hoped to be done with all this." Aedan locked eyes with Anders. He could see the conflict in those amber eyes and knew that the two mages had reconciled. It would make the decision to return to Ferelden all the harder on him. Aedan knew how difficult it was to be apart from one's soul mate. His own heart always broke a bit when he and Leiliana would have to say goodbye. At least he and Leiliana had time to build a firm foundation to their relationship before their duties had taken them so far apart. "Then I must apologize Serah Hawke, but information regarding Weisshaupt is kept inside the Order."

"I see," Garrettt stated in a neutral tone, a bit annoyed that he was being excluded, but not entirely surprised. He could see the worry that the mention of Weisshaupt had brought up in all the Wardens, even his sister seemed uncomfortable at the mention of it. Perhaps it was a blessing that he could retain some ignorance of the shadowy group. "I shall leave you to it. Messer." He caught the apologetic glance from Anders in the corner of his eye before deciding that a trip to the Hanged Man was needed.

~

After sending a few of the more trustworthy street urchins to deliver messages to both Johann and Arianni, Garrett made his way to the tavern. Secrets and potential subterfuge never sat well with the mage and made him crave the sweet buzz that came with large amounts of alcohol. As soon as he entered he made his way to the bar to order the strongest ale on tap before making his way to Varric's room. The dwarf was a bit surprised to see him so soon and alone, but had Norah bring up some food from the kitchen. Garrett told Varric about the Warden Commander's reaction as they feasted on warm beef roast with a baked potato and caramelized carrots. Varric seemed just as suspicious about the Warden secrecy as Garrett, pointing out how tight lipped Wardens were when it came to just about anything unless plied with the right amount of whiskey. They were later joined by the Hanged Man's resident pirate. With a large mug full of lukewarm ale she regaled them with her latest adventure to the Blooming Rose. With a smirk she told them how she had just managed to steal a fancy gold chain off a Hightown nobleman who had spent far to much time oggling her chest rather than minding where her hands had drifted. She had given the stuttering comte a wink before taking her leave and his finery as she whipped out of the Blooming Rose at top speed. To prove her story, she held out the chain, admiring how it twinkled in the candle light before clipping it around her neck on top of her many other necklaces. The three had a good laugh before deciding to celebrate with a few glasses of the Hanged Man's finest.  

As the evening went on, Garrett polished off several rounds of Corff's least rodent flavored whiskey as Varric and Isabela attempted to rob him blind in a game of Wicked Grace. Isabela had a small pile of his silvers in front of her by the end. She made a show of counting each and every shining coin, clinking them loudly as they were stacked one on top of the other. The pirate queen told him she might be persuaded to give him back his money if he agreed to play Strip Diamondback with her. Garrett promptly told her no as the last time they had played she had taken everything but his boots. Poor Merrill nearly got an eyeful of what humans had under their smalls if Varric hadn't intervened and ordered the giggling Rivaini to give Hawke back his pants.

Garrett could no longer see the faint hints of the setting sun from Varric's windows and decided it was time for him to go back to the estate. Hopefully by now the Wardens were finished or close to finishing. The warm slightly floating feeling of being tipsy filled his veins as he took his leave. A year ago it might have been dangerous to walk back alone at night in the middle of Lowtown, but Aveline's guards had done an admirable job getting rid of most of the gangs. The walk took a little longer than usual as Garrett was still a bit tipsy.

Even with the extra time Garrett returned home to find the library doors still shut tight. Not wanting to wait around in the entry hall he decided to go to his bedroom. He had left his armor upstairs earlier. Merrill had held onto it for him while he had been stuck in the Fade and returned it once he was awake. The silver threaded coat was beyond repair. Not only stained with a massive amount of blood, but a large hole on both front and back. Garrett's face had crumpled when Merrill gave him the ruined piece of clothing. She had asked if any in the clan had the skill to repair the coat, but not even Ilen could mend it. It was no longer usable as armor, but he couldn't bear to part with it. He had left it folded up on his bed as he had decided what to do with it. He picked up the coat and ran his fingers over the thick grey fabric, heart breaking as he remembered his father giving it to him shortly before his passing. It was one of the few things he had left of him. Most of Malcolm's few remaining possessions had been left behind when they had fled. He would not get rid of it, but store it away with the few bits of his homeland he still had. 

Garrett reverently folded the coat and opened the lockbox at the foot of his bed. It was sealed by magic to prevent anyone but himself from being able to access it's contents. The right combination of runes and a small pulse of mana opened the otherwise ordinary box. Inside was a small collection of correspondence, a small pouch holding twenty sovereigns, a pair of worn leatherbound journals, a tattered scarf, and wrapped in an old shirt that most valuable item of all. He pulled out a small vial that glowed with faint blue light. He placed the coat in and removed the vial. He gave it a small shake, watching the dark red fluid inside slide across the glass. His phylactery. He had originally given it to his mother just in case he were to ever be captured by slavers or Templars. When they had come to Kirkwall he had hidden it in the chest to avoid his uncle getting a hand on it and using it against him. He had considered giving it back to his mother, but had decided against it. She was so happy in their new life it seemed unfair to burden her with a reminder that it could all be taken away. So it had been left hidden away in his lockbox until he could decide what to do with it. 

After the last few days, he now knew what he wanted to do with it. Garrett considered the enchanted glass vial. It was a small thing really, barely the size of his hand. But this was tied to him in a way no other gift or trinket could express. It wasn't a sentimental bauble that would loose it's luster with the dust of many years. It was warm and beat in time with his heart. It was alive just as he was. A small portion of the whole that could call to him across the oceans and mountains. Something that could confirm his existence no matter how far away it was. Hearing footsteps behind him, Garrett carefully shut the lockbox and turned to see a blonde Warden leaning against the door frame. He was shifting a bit with agitation with arms crossed over his chest, suggesting that Garrett had been correct in his predictions. The only remaining question was how soon.

"When?" Garrett asked, sitting down on the edge of his bed. Anders looked up and briefly tightened his arms.

"Tomorrow, we leave at first light." Anders sat down next to Garrett. He wasn't sure how long he would be in Amaranthine or where he might be sent after. The Commander seemed certain that the best method of protection was to send his Wardens as far from each other as possible. Together, they might be a force to be reckoned with, but they were easier to track in larger numbers should Weisshaupt decide to send an assassin in the night.

"That's...sudden." Anders just nodded. Garrett laid his head on Anders' shoulder and took his hand. "Here, I want you to have this." Anders felt something warm and smooth being placed in his hand. He held it up to take a look. 

"Is this what I think it is? Your phylactery?" He turned the vial over and ran a finger over the faintly glowing enchantments. He couldn't speak for a moment, simply overwhelmed by the significance of the gesture. He couldn't believe the amount of trust he was being given, a veritable lifeline to his sweetheart. "Garrett, mein liebling, are you sure?"

"Yes, I don't know what's coming next, but I want you to always have a way to come back to me." Garrett nuzzled his neck affectionately, attempting to memorize the warm slightly spicy scent of his love. As soon as the words left his lips, he was being held tight and his breath stolen by a searing kiss. He let out a surprised grunt as Anders pulled him onto his lap. The Warden's hands fisted in Garrett's shirt as he kept a tight hold on his waist.  With their torsos pressed together, they could feel their hearts pounding together in near synchrony. In this position, Garrett could tilt his head down to kiss his Warden. He buried his hands in loose red gold hair and smiled against his love's lips.

Words were inadequate in this moment. No words in any language could do justice to what Anders felt in that moment. Thank you, thank you he tried to say with each kiss, tugging up Garrett's shirt before the other mage caught on and pulled it off. Anders laid down the phylactery on Garrett's discarded shirt before reaching up to run his hands over that lovely warm skin. He ran his hands over the newly exposed skin of Garrett's upper body, loving the contrast of iron hard muscles hidden under soft skin. He bit down lightly on Garret's exposed collarbone, leaving a faint red mark that would be gone by tomorrow. 

"I will always come back," he whispered fervently against Garrett's neck as he dragged his teeth lightly up from where shoulder met neck to just under the right ear. He couldn't help but take pride in the shiver that elicited. The grip on his hair tightened briefly before being pushed down onto his back with Garrett still hovering over him. Those blue eyes gazing over him were almost black as the pupils dilated and thinned the iris to a near absent ring. With a hungry smile, the younger mage leaned down to capture Anders' lips. He ran the tip of his tongue over Anders' lower lip before the blonde parted them. Both let out a moan as their tongues slid together. Anders tangled his arms around Garrett's shoulder and wrapped his legs around the other mage's waist, getting the heavier man to lay more of his body on top of him. A sharp thrust of Garrett's hips elicited a lust filled groan as their still clothed erections rubbed together. "Maker's breath, I need you." In the blink of an eye they had stripped down to their skins. Garrett slipped from his lover's grasp, earning a small frown. Garrett gave him a short kiss to erase it. 

"Lay back love, I want to take care of you tonight." His breath was hot against Anders' skin as his lips ghosted over the hollow of his neck. The bristles of his beard lightly scratched pale skin. He licked and nipped as each new inch of bare flesh. When he found spots that were more sensitive than others he would take more time on them. There was a thin line of scar tissue below the left clavicle that looked like it had been left by something with sharp claws. A darkspawn perhaps? It was surprisingly sensitive, Anders moaning and bucking under him as he sucked along the length of the scar from near the junction of arm and shoulder to the center of his chest. He placed a kiss to the skin covering the sternum and felt the heart underneath racing and bumping against it’s bone cage. My dear heart, he whispered against the skin, not sure if Anders heard him or not. He continued lower, running his hands along ticklish flanks that quivered with both laughter and groans. He traced along the lines of muscled definition on Anders’ abdomen with his tongue and teeth. Lines that showed years of training wielding a heavy staff in complex katas that hardened the body and disciplined the mind. There was rounded scar that looked to have been caused by a something sharp and thin, an arrow? No, the circle was too big for that, it looked more like a spear. When he reached underneath Anders and trailed a finger along his back he felt a corresponding scar on the other side. Whatever it was, it had gone through and impaled the mage right through the vitals. It should have been a slow, painful death, but he was still alive and safe in their bed. He wondered how he had missed it earlier, but Anders was good at keeping him … preoccupied. He would have to ask about it later.

Pressing a final kiss to the scar, he drifted down to the jutting ridges of the pelvis just above the top of the pants. He wrapped his hands around Anders’ hips, amazed again at how thin the other man was. Not sickly or gaunt like some of the Ferelden refugees that still resided in Darktown, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. Anders had always been slender, but he could remember just the last traces of puppy fat that had softened his angular face when they were in the Circle together. It had since melted away and left behind the hard angles of an adult male. Garrett ran an appreciative hand over the smooth muscles of his stomach and the trail of darker hair leading southward. He chuckled low when he felt the muscles trembling beneath his touch as Anders panted underneath him. He wasn’t as experienced as his lover, but he was learning. And Maker did he love it.

Anders reached up to run hand over the firm muscles of Garrett’s pectorals. He grinned wickedly as he lightly raked his nails downward, raising thin red lines that faded quickly. Garrett hissed at the mix of pain and pleasure, grabbed the healer’s hands and held them together above his head. Putting a small bit of pressure on the wrists, he had trapped him. His victory was short lived when Anders managed to get his legs out from under him and wrap them around his waist to pull him off balance. He landed with an ‘oof’ on the other mage’s chest and let go to prop himself back up.

 “Cheat,” Garrett said.

“All’s fair in love,” Anders wrapped his arms around Garrett’s neck and rolled his hips. Garrett moaned and thrust up against him for more friction. Anders swallowed the sounds with an opened mouthed kiss. Garrett grabbed a vial of oil from the nightstand he normally used on his skin after bathing and reached between them to take them both in hand. Anders couldn’t help but thrust into the tight ring of Garrett’s hand. He could have kept going until he reached completion if it weren’t for the promise Garrett had made earlier about taking care of Anders. He loosened himself from Anders grip and took the vial again. He generously coated his fingers and reached back to open himself. The angle was awkward, and his own fingers did not have the experienced touch Anders’ did, but he managed to slowly work himself up to three.

He straddled his lover and took hold of his aching member. He took some more of the oil and spread on the overheated flesh. He positioned himself carefully before sinking down on Anders’ cock. He grunted at the feeling of the cockhead pushing through the outer rings of muscle and entering him. He felt every inch fill him until he had taken his lover completely. Both moaned and Anders couldn't help but thrust up into the tight heat. Sweet Maker, Garrett's tight clenching channel almost undid him right there.  

Garrett's skin felt too tight, too hot as he took a moment to adjust. Anders' strong hands were digging into his hips, likely leaving bruises that would linger in the morning. After a few minutes, he tentatively start moving up before impaling himself once more on the thick shaft. Beneath him, Anders was moaning and encouraging him to speed up. Garrett felt amazing, his tight body wrapped around Anders like a glove made just for him. He thrust upwards into Garrett’s body and hit the spot that made him see bursts of white light behind his eyes. Garrett clenched around him as he did so, arching back until he was taut as a bow. "Yes," Anders groaned as he planted his feet to gain some leverage to thrust harder. 

Garrett sped up as his spot was stimulated over and over. Each hard thrust sent a shower of sparks down his spine. He wasn’t going to last much longer. He gripped the headboard for balance, and looked down to see Anders’ sweating, ecstatic face. They were both panting and unable to string more than two words together. Anders could feel his end coming on him, a tight coil in his belly ready to snap. He wrapped a hand around Garrett’s dripping cock and stroked him in counterpoint to his thrusts.

“Come, now love,” he begged. The dual sensations of his lover’s cock pounding at his sweet spot and hand stroking his aching flesh was too much. Garrett felt something uncoil in his gut and bolts of ecstasy travelling all the way from the top of his head down to his curling toes. He felt himself let go and release everything. He came all over Anders’ hand and was barely able to prevent himself from collapsing on top of the blonde. Anders thrust a few more times in the rhythmically clenching channel before spilling his seed. The dark haired mage shivered in his arms when he felt the blonde release inside him, rolling to the side instead of on top of him.

Anders licked his hand and tasted the bitter, salty flavor that was all Garrett. He grinned when he saw Garrett watching him. He made a bit of a show licking up the rest of his release, sucking up every drop from fingers and laving his palm clean. Reaching down from the bed, Anders grabbed his discarded tunic and used it to clean them both. When he was done he pulled Garrett to curl up next to him. He began to drift off, stroking the dark hair that rested on his chest, feeling safe and wanted. He could sleep easy knowing Garrett would still be by his side when the morning came. He didn't know when the next time they could be together would happen, so he attempted to soak up the memory of every touch to tide him over until then. As much as he wanted to stay awake to spend more time with his liebling, it was becoming too difficult to keep his eye open.  It didn’t take more than a few minutes for Anders to drift off into the Fade, lulled by the warm body and soft humming. He caught a snippet of what Garrett was humming just before sleep overtook him and wondered why it sounded so familiar:   

 “Tenderly enfolds you in slumber, softening the rolling thunder…”

Translation

Mein Liebling - My Darling/Treasure (I just find it adorable either way)

 

Note - Crossing the River Dane- Basically the same as 'crossing the Rubicon' or no turning back. I thought making Loghain's actions similar to Julius Caesar's might be appropriate as both led to a new era in their respective nations. Loghain's victory at the River led to a free Ferelden under a Theirin King and Caesar's march on Rome prompted the Imperial Roman empire to begin. 


	14. Chains of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, hopefully the next chapter will be up in the next few days.

The Grey Wardens left Kirkwall just as the first light of day crept over the city. Garrett had already said farewell to Bethany as their mother gave her one last mama bear hug. Garrett was tempted to give Nathaniel Howe a few stern words concerning the treatment of his sister, but let it go when he saw the soft look the archer had in his eyes when looking at Bethany. He could always threaten him through letter another time. The Commander thanked both him and his mother for their hospitality, giving the mage a knowing look as the Wardens took their leave. He silently indicated that Anders could stay just a little longer before coming to the docks to catch the boat. Grateful for the small gift, Anders and Garrett took a bit of extra time to say their goodbyes. Garrett made sure to check that the blonde still had his phylactery. He wanted to be sure the other mage could always find his way back to him. 

Garrett told his mother that he had business in Lowtown and would be back that evening. He had found a letter on his desk from Ser Thrask when he had come down from the master bedroom. It offered a small pile of gold and a chance to walk with Anders without having to make up an excuse.

The two walked through the streets of Lowtown to find it mostly empty. There were some merchants setting up their wares and a few early customers, but other than that it was deserted. If not for the bright sun overhead and the increased guard patrols, Garrett would have been expecting an ambush. It had happened almost daily in his first two years of living at Kirkwall. Thankfully, Aveline had taken over as Captain of the guard and had done what she could to better enforce the laws outside the confines of Hightown. The numbers of robberies and disappearances had dropped drastically in the year since she had taken command. The Kirkwall peasants owed her a great debt.   

They didn’t say much as they went, Garrett pointing out a few places, the Ferelden refugee center, his uncle’s home, the old foundry, the stairs that led into Darktown. As they walked side by side, their hands brushed companionably until Anders laced their fingers together. Even with the slower pace, they reached the docks in no time, carefully skirting the Qunari compound as they went through the main gates. The two horned giants standing sentry eyed them warily, though he did see one of them incline it’s massive head towards Garrett. He didn’t ask, the qunari were strange in their sense of honor and duty, even the Commander with his qunari friend Sten still had difficulty grasping the mindset of these creatures. That and they removed the tongues of their mages before sewing their lips shut. He shuddered at the thought, not even Templars committed such punishments for the crime of simply existing.

There was a small shipping boat that the Commander had already booked passage on for him. He could see them already preparing to leave. He wished he had more time to say goodbye, or rather, not say goodbye at all.

“There she is, the _Arya Braavos_ ,” a fine, sturdy vessel that would cross the Amaranthine Sea with no problem. The others were already boarded and settling themselves on the deck and the small guest quarters below. They embraced one last time, Anders' jaw brushed against the dark hair and he could smell the burning scent of lightning on Garrett. "I'll come back soon, liebling."

"You better," Garrett huffed and cradled his cheek before they shared a soft kiss. "You should go now, before I get tempted to swim after you."

"Can't have that can we,” with a heavy heart, he walked down the dock to where the ship captain was waiting for him. He handed him his papers and climbed aboard. When he had settled his things, he glanced back at the wharf to see Garrett had left. It appears his business was a bit more urgent than he had implied. He regretted not having Garrett be the last thing he saw as he left that dank place. The captain boarded shorty after and had the anchor raised and the sails opened to catch the sea breeze. The other Wardens had gathered to the bow to watch the great chains lower to allow the boat to pass. Anders didn't join them, staying at the stern as he tried to catch one last glimpse of Garrett. But the mage was no where to be seen.  All he could see was the high cliffs with the golden slaves as the little vessel cut through the cresting waves. It didn’t take long for the city to vanish behind its natural walls. It was almost as if it didn’t even exist.

Garrett had found a good vantage point on top of one of the warehouses to watch the boat sail away. He watched as the boat took the other mage back across the sea away from where he belonged. He hoped that Anders would be send him a letter when he arrived home. He would like for whatever was between them to not end simply because they couldn’t see each other. He hoped, perhaps unfairly, that the other would miss and think of him. At least Anders had his phylactery. The phylactery would always help him find his way back to Garrett.

He did not allow himself to wallow in such sadness. He did have something to do today. A message had arrived for him early that day from Ser Thrask. The message spoke of escaped mages from Starkhaven hiding somewhere along the coast. Thrask had heard from Emeric about Garrett's help with the missing women and wished for him to assist in this delicate matter. Garrett didn’t see it ending well. He was, after all, an escaped mage himself. He couldn’t condemn people to the hell he had left behind. Still, if he outright refused, it might look odd, better to keep the enemy close in this case. 

In the end, despite misgivings in dealing with Templars, Garrett found himself helping Ser Thrask. After leaving the docks, he met the man outside a warehouse in the old industrial region of Lowtown. The man had greeted him with respect, crossing his arms as they gave each other a small salute. After exchanging formal pleasantries, Thrask offered him a chance to help several mages that had escaped their escort as they were brought to Kirkwall from Starkhaven. The Circle of Starkhaven had been disbanded after the tower there had recently burned down in rather mysterious circumstances. The mages that had survived the raging inferno needed to be relocated until reconstruction was complete. One of the enchanters had already arrived at the Gallows a week earlier without any incident, but this group of mages had a trouble maker with them, an older man named Decimus. Orsino had been warned that the man was prone to stirring up his Templar guards, but was more inclined towards words than action.

It would appear Decimus had grown bolder since the tower burned. One of the Templar escorts who had managed to make it to Kirkwall claimed he had turned on the guards with blood magic. He had boiled the blood inside the veins of the guards who got within arm’s reach. The man who had survived had been at the rear of the escort. When he saw his fellows writhe in agony and explode seconds later, he had taken off as fast as his feet could carry his plate armor clad body. He hadn’t stopped until he nearly dropped dead from exhaustion at the Knight Commander’s feet.

To say Meredith was displeased to put it extremely lightly. So displeased that she was willing to resort to using the most ruthless tactics at her disposal. She had decided to send Ser Karras to retrieve them. He had her express permission to put down any mages that attempted to resist. But given Karras' streak of sadism, he was likely to put down even those mages that didn't attempt to fight in the most brutal fashion he could imagine. 

Thrask knew there was little time before Karras attempted to recapture the mages. While Thrask was a Templar, but he didn’t believe in beating or tormenting scared children. He wanted to give these people a chance to turn themselves in before something terrible happened. He had consulted with his colleague, the semi-retired Ser Emeric, on hiring an outside agent. Emeric remembered Garrett’s mage sympathies and had suggested him. Given his brother Carver's reputation for being a moderate Templar, Thrask felt that he could be truted. Thrask had reached out to him through Aveline, not wanting Meredith to know he was going against orders. The man wasn’t worried about what the likely flogging or forced lyrium withdrawal, his main concern was the safety of the mages he had taken under his protection. Without him, men like Ser Karras and Ser Alrik would be free to torture to their black hearts’ delight.

And so, Garrett found himself working pro bono with a Templar. The irony of an escaped Circle mage helping a Templar capture other escaped mages was just weird.

Thrask gave him a map with directions to the cave where the escaped mges were holed up and wished him luck. He gathered his companions, Varric, Aveline, and Isabela, before heading out of the city. He was almost sorry to take Aveline when he went into her office to find her sharing a glass of wine with her beau, Donnic. She rarely got time off these days and what time she did have off was often interrupted by Garrett’s near apocalyptic adventures. To be fair, he did try to make it up to her and Donnic by sending them bottles of Antiva’s finest and helping the guardsman get reservations in some of Hightown’s finer establishments. Which is probably why Aveline agreed to help him bring in the mages despite initial concerns of blood magic.

Isabela and Varric had been much easier to convince. Isabela wanted to get out of the city for a bit and Varric was always up for an adventure if it could be used later in one of his books. Getting everyone together and to the cave had been the easy part. The hard part started as soon as they entered the cave.

There was a group of mages waiting for them just inside the entrance. Before Garrett could even speak, they all slit their wrists and employed dark magic to raise a small army of the undead. As the skeletons shuffled towards them, Garrett was horrified to realize the Templar reports of blood mages had not been inaccurate. He was forced to summon up the primal magics and obliterate them before they could turn into abominations. Varric and Isabela took the undead down with daggers and bolts. Isabela moved the grace of a jungle cat as she went from one skeleton to the next, using her long knives to decapitate and stab her enemies. Her skills proving that she wasn’t a pirate queen for nothing. When the undead attempted to surround her on all sides, Varric sent a flurry of arrows down on them. While not all of them were killed, most were knocked down by the force behind the bolts.

Aveline stayed close to Garrett, giving him protection as he conjured up a tempest of electricity. A number of the undead tried to take down the vulnerable mage, but Aveline’s strong shield arm kept them from reaching her friend. When one got close, she would lash out her shield, knocking it off balance before stepping forward to strike with her long sword. No undead creature was getting through her defense. It gave Hawke the time he needed to unleash the deadly forces of nature on the blood mages.

The lightning shot upwards to the cavern ceiling before arcing downwards to the blood mages. Their still dripping blood was a good conductor for an electrical current. The blood being mostly water with charged ions channeled the electrical pulse through the circulatory system, rupturing blood vessels and organs. The mages spasmed and convulsed as hundreds of volts of energy tore through them. The undead dropped when their puppet masters no longer had control over their own bodies. When the spell ended, they dropped like their strings had been cut. All dead, their organs and tissues hemorrhaged. It was painful, but quicker than anything the Templars might have planned for the maleficarum.

As the prepared to go deeper into the cavern, they found a young boy. Just barely a man really, hiding in one of the small alcoves not far from his fallen comrades. He was crying and begging for them to spare his life. Alain, the boy, had never wanted to hurt anyone, he had only run away because he was too afraid to defy Decimus. He pleaded with Garrett not to fight Decimus. The man was an absolute lunatic. It had been Decimus that set the tower on Starkhaven on fire to engineer his escape. He had killed several of his fellow mages in selfish madness. He would likely kill them all if given half the chance.

Garrett had decided to go easy on the young man, ordering him to go and wait outside the cave until the had dealt with Decimus. The boy was harmless and would just get in the way. The boy had thanked him and hurried away. 

The fight with Decimus was a difficult one. He didn’t give Garrett the chance to speak in his defense, ordering his followers to slay the Templar lackeys. While some like Alain abstained from fighting, the ones that followed Decimus’ orders called on the undead just as their fallen comrades had. Garrett focused his efforts on taking down Decimus. The man’s feral eyes trained on Garrett, recognizing him as the biggest threat. Decimus stabbed himself in the side and used the blood to summon shades. The shades tried to tear at Garrett’s skin and leather armor. He was able to use a burst of telekinesis to disperse them. After forcing them away, he threw a round of fireballs, scorching the Fade creatures to ash. Decimus swore angrily as his minions fell. He was about to cast a paralysis glyph on Garrett as Isabela appeared behind him. She grabbed a handful of his limp, greasy blonde hair and pulled his head back to expose his throat to her knife. His eyes widened in terror as his throat was slit from ear to ear.

The mages that didn’t resist Garrett were allowed to flee through a small tunnel at the rear of the cave. One, a girl named Grace, thanked him and gave him her staff so that he could use it as proof of her ‘death’. Aveline disapproved of his actions. She thought the mages needed to be brought into the Gallows, even though her own friend was a long escaped apostate. Isabela and Varric however felt Garrett had done the right thing. According to Isabela, everyone deserved the chance to be free.

When they left the cave, they found Ser Thrask and Alain to be waiting for them. Hawke lied and told Thrask that the mages had all been killed because they had turned on him and each other with blood magic. He even gave Thrask Grace’s staff as evidence. Thrask was saddened by their deaths, but relieved that at least one would be brought in safely. Ser Karras arrived shortly afterwards with two other Templars. He refused to believe that all the mages were dead or that Garrett was just ‘conveniently’ in the area. Varric made up a quick load of bull about Garrett being a Ferelden enchanter on loan from Kinloch Hold that had been sent out with Ser Thrask on the Grand Cleric’s orders. Ser Karras was gullible enough to buy it and even thanked ‘Enchanter Malcolm’ for his assistance.      

“When I was a young recruit,” Thrask said as they all made their way back from the Wounded Coast, “my mentor always told me that we must never forget our true duties. Do you know what that duty is?”

“From the looks of the Gallows,” Hawke answered, “I’d say it’s to protect people from mages.”

“Perhaps in the eyes of some,” Thrask conceded, “but not quite. A Templar’s true duty is to protect mages. From demons, from themselves, and even us to a certain extent.” Thrask sighed, he sounded as if a great weight was pressing down on him. “I fear that in recent years many have forgotten that we are not meant to be jailors. Far too many recruits are taught to fear and revile their charges, rather than care or to show mercy.” Garrett could remember some of the Templars who had watched over him in his time at Kinloch Hold. Most were a stern lot, but very few ever went out of their way to inflict pain on the tower mages. If they were caught abusing their charges, Greagoir would punish them just as he would punish a mage who broke the rules. It hadn’t been a great system, but there fairness in it. He hadn’t seen such fairness in the Gallow’s Templars.

“Considering who the Knight Commander is and her stance on mages, that’s not surprising.” Thrask nodded, “but you don’t agree with her?”

“Not on some things, mages can be dangerous but so can any man with a sharp blade or despot king with an army.”

“You seem to have a more moderate view of mages than most of your fellows, Serah,” Hawke noted, he was beginning to like this man. He certainly had no intention of revealing his magic to this Templar, but he didn’t expect Thrask to smite him for the fun of it.

“My mentor always said the best man he ever knew was a Ferelden apostate,” Garrett almost stumbled as he continued, “the mage was brought to the Gallows after sneaking into a party in Hightown, apparently he was infatuated with some noble’s daughter.”

“I can’t imagine her noble parents were all that thrilled. Bringing home an apostate rarely goes over well,” Garrett panned. He had never met his mother’s parents, but knew that they had disapproved of their daughter’s union. It had taken death and a Blight to get his mother to come home.

“I should say not, they were the ones who helped put the mage in the Gallows.” His mother always got a little teary eyed when she told this part of the story where she and Malcolm had fallen in love even as he had to stay behind the bars of his prison. “My mentor always had a soft spot for love though. He would pass messages along for them. After a year of their correspondence, he looked the other way when the mage escaped and took the girl with him.”

“Sounds like he was a bad Templar then,” Garret quipped.

“Maybe, but Ser Maurevar was a good man. I think he understood that being a protector also means allowing people to protect themselves.” The name, Ser Maurevar Carver, was one he had heard in his first year of living at Kirkwall. The man who had given their father his freedom and Carver’s namesake. “His friend, he was named Malcolm too, you know.” Thrask gave Garrett a knowing look. Did he?

“Common name in Ferelden,” Garrett brushed it off, “almost as bad as Logan or William.”

“If you say so, Serah.” Thrask took custody of the young mage once they reached the Gallows, kindly leading him through the main gates to the office of First Enchanter Orsino. Hawke didn’t follow, he didn’t risk spending too much time in the Gallows. He only ever visited when he wanted to buy ingredients for potions or the occasional new part for his staff. Even when he was forced to visit, he often went wearing a hooded cloak to conceal his face. Most of the Templars would just think him an eccentric noblemen, but if someone were to recognize him from Ferelden, he would be taken in.

The only Templar who posed any threat was Knight Captain Cullen, but the man was normally preoccupied with other matters. Still, there was the possibility that Cullen would see his face and remember him as the escaped mage from Ferelden. He regretted leaving his cloak when he saw the man standing in the courtyard. He was talking to another Templar and didn’t notice him, thank the Maker.

He had made his way towards the main gate when a woman called out to him. He stopped dead in his tracks, hoping the Templars weren’t paying attention. They didn’t even spare a glance.

“Garrett?” He turned to see an elven woman in long blue robes. It had been a decade, but he recognized her as easily as he would have years ago. “Maker’s breath,” she walked closer, just out of arm’s reach, “it is you.”

“Hello, Aeryn” he said, not sure what else he could say. She was older now, and there was a hint of gray in her hair. She was quite thin, her high cheeks bones threatening to cut through the skin.

“Dear Garrett,” she looked ready to cry, “all these years, and here you are. Alive.” Garrett was glad that his companions had backed off to give him some space to speak. “I was certain you must have died in the Blight, so many of us did.”

“I had family in Kirkwall, and my brother was able to warn us before the darkspawn reached our village. We got lucky.” Aeryn nervously brushed a graying lock of hair behind a pointed ear, “I see you survived the incident in the Tower.”

“I was in Starkhaven actually, Irving sent me there after my Harrowing. I see you brought Alain back, he’s a good kid,” she smiled a little, “thank you. I’m happy Decimus didn’t hurt him.”

“I just did what I had to.” Garrett couldn’t place it, but something was off about Aeryn. The spark that had always animated her was gone. Instead, she was more of a shell than anything else. It was almost like she was Tranquil. He would have to ask Ser Thrask to make sure nobody was mistreating her. He, even after the fallout, still wanted her to be happy. “I should go, far too many Templars here for my safety.”

“Of course, you should probably not come back for a while then, they’re bringing in more recruits soon.” Garrett gave a short nod and turned to leave, “Garrett, before you go, may I say one more thing?”

“Sure.” She gave him a sad smile, her eyes seeming to flash blue for a brief second.

“What I did to you, all those years ago, I’ve wanted to say sorry for so long.” Her breath hitched, “it was, it is unjust.”


	15. To Endure All Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shifting political scene in Thedas that creates exiles out of good men. Flemeth gave the Hero of Ferelden a nudge and watches as things begin to dance again. References to DLC Golems of Amgarrak. (13/9/2015) Updated chapter 15 and an announcement, due to recent health issues I haven't been as good about updating. Hoping to have everything resolved soon and a more regular update schedule. Thanks for the patience!

O Maker, hear my cry:   
Guide me through the blackest nights   
Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked   
Make me to rest in the warmest places.

My Maker, know my heart   
Take from me a life of sorrow   
Lift me from a world of pain   
Judge me worthy of Your endless pride  

-Canticle of Transfigurations (12:1,3) 

Garrett found himself unable to sleep for the third night in a row. It had been almost two months since the Wardens had returned to Ferelden and he had received no word from Anders. He grew doubly frustrated when the messages he sent to both Anders and Bethany returned to him unopened. A large part of him wondered if he had made a horrible mistake. What if it was all just one big joke and he was the unwitting punchline. When the thought first came to him a couple weeks after the first letter was returned, Garrett had ground his teeth until he found something solid and not living to hit. The large oak tree in the center of his mother’s garden now sported a fist sized dent. Thank the Maker the old thing was so thick and heavy, or he might have been forced to buy Leandra a new tree.

He had tried to speak with the few Wardens that passed through Kirkwall on their way to Ansburg, but all rebuffed any attempt at conversation. It made him realize that something big was going on behind the scenes. That was a col comfort. It didn’t get easier as the time slowly drifted away. Each day that his desk remained bare of the desired words, a bit of himself crumbled. He managed to hide it from his mother, pretending he was completely consumed with the business at the Bone Pit. The best lies always had a portion of truth embedded in them. Some of the miners had continued to report strange smells in some of the newer tunnels and Garrett would make day trips out to investigate. It was a good distraction for both.

His mabari had fallen asleep in front of the fire at in the library as Garrett flipped through a book that either Varric or Aveline had put on his shelves. The few pages he had read told the backstory of a hardboiled detective that had no problem with bending the rules to put the bad guy away. Normally, he loved  those kind of stories, but it held little interest for him now. He sighed and gave up, tossing the book haphazardly somewhere behind him. The book made a dull thud that was quite loud in the slumbering house. Archon’s ears twitched, but the dog kept snoring.

Garrett settled in for what was sure to be another long night. At least the arm chair is comfortable, Garrett mentally grumbled as he stared into the glowing hearth. The flames were a soft yellow that crackled intermittently as they consumed the neatly stacked logs. The barely audible whisper of air being consumed and the sparking of leaping fire acted were quite soothing on his frayed nerves. His eyes began to drift shut as the hearth’s warmth soaked through the light linen of his tunic.    

He had begun to doze when a series of three loud bangs startled him to full alert. Garrett nearly fell out his chair as he bolted up. The mabari ran out to the main foyer and began barking at the door. Garrett had to take hold of Archon’s leather collar and yanked the dog back. The mabari fought him briefly, bouncing on his hind legs as he continued to growl. Garrett was still struggling to hold the dog when he noticed Orana peaking in from the door frame. Her wide eyes appeared even larger as she stared at the dog.

“Get the door,” Garrett asked as he managed to pull the dog back. Orana hesitated at first, but obeyed. She unlocked the door and let out a shout when a person nearly landed on top of her. Orana ducked behind Garrett, trembling from panic. Archon had ceased his barking and let out a confused huffing noise. Garrett released the dog as he knelt down to take a look at the prone figure. They wore a hood covering their head. Garrett pushed it back to reveal messy blond hair. His stomach dropped and unease crept up his spine. He rolled the person over. “Maker’s blood,” he felt Anders’ sweat drenched forehead. The skin was so warm it almost scalded him. “Orana, go to the study and bring me the small black box with the red seal.” Orana swiftly rose to her feet and sprinted to get his healing supplies. He could see several large dark dried stains of what could be blood. There was too much for it just to be Anders’ blood. Some of the gore was black instead of the normal dried brown. It reminded Garrett of the ooze that had covered Aveline’s sword when they had fought darkspawn in the Deep Roads.

“Master,” Orana set down the chest. For the first time, Garrett was glad that Orana insisted on sleeping on a cot in the kitchen. When she had first come to live there Garrett had encouraged her to take one of the rooms in the guest wing, but she insisted on sleeping in the kitchen. It was familiar and safe, a place that held many of her better memories.

“I need you to hold his head,” Garrett removed a vial of crushed Amrita Vein and added a few drops of elfroot concentrate. Orana had laid the Warden’s head in her lap and tilted his jaw to let Garrett pour down the antipyretic. The elfroot would help fight whatever infection was wreaking havoc on Anders’ system and the Amrita would reduce any inflammation present.

With some help from Orana, Garrett was able to get Anders up to his bedroom and lay him on the bed. Garrett was now certain that hiring Orana had been one of the best decisions he had ever made. The dwarves were on the other side of the house and could not hear the door knocker from there. His mother could sleep through a thunderstorm and would only have made things more anxious with her fretting. Maker bless Orana, Garrett thought over and over as the girl showed a remarkable amount of a calm while her employer was barely capable of stilling his hands. Garrett had been unnerved by the sight of all the black, crusted blood covering Anders from head to toe.

After assisting her master move the Warden from the foyer to the master bedroom, Orana had brought a large basin full of water from the kitchens. Garrett warmed the water with a simple glyph and found some soap in his bath. They carefully removed the armor and undershirt, leaving Anders in his pants. The armor was salvageable but the undershirt was too stained with questionable fluids to be used again. It was tossed unceremoniously into the fire, causing the flames to briefly dim and hiss as the black ooze fought the heat.

With nothing covering his torso, they could now see the true extent of Anders’ injuries. There were many large bruises that hinted as some internal trauma, but no massive gashes or puncture wounds that would need stitches. The swelling on his right side and pained grunt when pressed indicated that the mage had bruised or broken a few of his ribs. They would likely have to bind them once Anders was awake to confirm.

It took several changes of water to remove all the grime from Anders’ skin. Garrett thanked Orana for all her help as she took the bowl back to the kitchen. The elf gave him a timid smile before wishing him a good night. “Oh love, what happened to you?” Garrett asked as he pulled up the blanket, tucking it just under Anders’ shoulders. He stripped down to his skin before crawling into bed and lay next to Anders. As much as he wanted to press himself close to the unconscious mage, Garrett kept a few inches between them. It would probably be less unsettling for the mage if he woke up without being crowded.

Garrett watched him carefully and waited for any sign of Anders waking. He could hear his mabari letting out an unhappy whimper when the dog leaned up to sniff the blonde. Archon had gotten used to sleeping in Garrett’s bed again when the Wardens had left. He was not pleased to see his spot was taken again. The dog pressed his wet nose against Anders’ cheek and nudged before Garrett told him to stop. The mabari cocked his head and obeyed as he took post by the hearth.

It was still hours before dawn and Garrett knew he wouldn’t get anymore rest. As tired as he was, Garrett stayed awake as the gray hues of predawn crept in through the windows. Anders’ fever had gone down and his breathing was more even. There was only a hint of a flush on his cheeks rather than the drained corpse pallor Garrett had first seen. He tried talking to Anders, hoping that his voice might stir the Warden and wake him. Without a doubt, Anders would need rest to recover from whatever injuries or sickness was coursing through him, but Garrett had to know what was going on. Why was he here? Why had there been weeks of silence?

~

_He could hear it coming for him in the shadows. It had killed the others and now it wanted him too. He could still hear the screams as it ripped the other Wardens to shreds. Fornier, Thierry, Guillaume, and Evaris, the Orlesian Wardens sent from Jader on orders of the First Warden himself, they were all dead now. Velanna, the crafty witch, had abandoned them early on as she chased a whisper in the dark. She had been calling her sister’s name as she sprinted off into a half collapsed tunnel. Whether she really believed it was her or just a trick to make the other Wardens think her crazier than she truly was, he couldn’t say. It didn’t matter though, Velanna was gone and not coming back._

_The others had scoffed and agreed to let the beasts in the tunnels have her. Anders may not have cared much for her, but she was a sister in the Grey. He was furious with the others, insisting they must do something. What if she was hurt and needed them? The other Wardens scoffed and told him that he was free to scour the vast tunnels by himself if he was so determined to find the deserter. In a terrible moment, Anders gave in and allowed Velanna to be abandoned. Maker, forgive him, but there was no way of even knowing if he would actually find her or be left wandering an endless maze until he died._

_He hoped Velanna had found what she was looking for. Or that it had been a quick death. Maybe both._

_They descended deeper into the tunnels. There was no evidence of any recent travelers, but that was expected. This part of the Roads had been abandoned since the Second Blight and many of it’s passages had collapsed over the centuries. The only people that had been in the area in living memory were the Warden Commander and the Dace brothers. An ill-fated excursion that revealed just how far the dwarves were willing to go to save their empire. The Commander had spoken once and only once of what he had seen in the depths. The Paragon Caradin’s research was lost after his disappearance and without his anvil there was no way to create more golems. Many attempted, but all failed. Amgarrak was one of the most ambitious attempts as the dwarves were willing to outsource to a Tevinter mage. For a time, Orzammar received notes and updates on the efforts of the combined venture. Most was disheartening as they had not found a way to animate their creations. In time, it had become joke to the Assembly. They would laugh and mock those last reports, assured that House Dolvish would soon come begging for more money to fund their ridiculous experiments. That is, until the reports suddenly ceased._

_There was talk of mounting an expedition to the far flung Thaig, but in the end it was decided that it was a waste of resources. Amgarrak was soon struck from most records and forgotten._

_In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, House Dace wanted to take advantage of the lull in darkspawn activity and retake some of the old Thaigs. Kal-Hirol was secured and surely there was more forgotten treasures waiting rediscovery. The goal was to find Amgarrak and it’s secrets. If there was any research that could help restore the old empire, it was worth any cost._

_The expedition only sent one message back confirming that they had found the Thaig before all communication ceased. Concerned that history was repeating itself, the Commander was summoned and joined Jerrik Dace in an attempt to find his brother._

_It was by divine providence that they found Brogan and survived an encounter with a monstrous creature. The monster was the abominable spawn of blood magic and dwarven disregard for their casteless. It had created a body for itself from corpses. The dwarves tried to kill it, but it abandoned it’s body and hid in the shadows. From there it struck out at any that came too close. Soon there was enough bodies for it to create a new vessel. The few remaining dwarves that had realized the error of their ways attempted to flee the Thaig but never made it far. The creature had been unable to leave the Thaig due to the lyrium wells, but those had been destroyed. The creature was free to roam the Roads as it pleased._

_The Commander had done what he could to stop the suicide mission, but he was overruled by the High Constable. The man had come all the way from Weisshaupt to speak with the Commander about how he had slain the Archdemon and lived. He had brought a number of Wardens from the Anderfels and Orlais, slowly replacing the ones Cousland had recruited with these strangers._

_Unable to stop the Constable, the Commander had told him to be ready to run. There was something evil still lurking near the Thaig and he didn’t want to sacrifice his friend to it. As he, Velanna, and a small number of the Constable’s Wardens waited for the heavy iron portcullis to be raised he saw the Commander watching from the small balcony by his office. Aedan had his arms crossed and a frown etched on his face. Fear, it was fear he saw on his face._

_When they heard the first of the creature’s roars, Anders knew why the Commander had looked so afraid. The beast barreled through the tunnel with a speed that should not have been possible for a creature so large. It was easily nine feet tall and broad as three men, and a fetid stink of rotted meat was nearly overpowering._

_Evaris was the first to die. He had charged head on at the beast, swinging his broadsword wildly. His blade sunk into the creature’s side with a wet squelch and could not be removed. The Harvester picked up the warrior and ripped him in two with no more effort than one might use for pulling wings off a fly. Fornier had screamed with fury as he saw his friend’s halves slam against the tunnel wall. In an adrenaline fueled rage, he used his daggers to slice large chunks of slimy skin from the Harvester’s side. Black ooze that might have once been blood spurted from the cuts, splashing all the Wardens as it thrashed._

_Fornier was hit by one of it’s dangling arms and knocked off balance. In his moment of vulnerability, the Harvester raised a foot and brought it crashing down on Fornier’s chest. There was the loud crack of ribs and sternum breaking under immense pressure. Fornier’s coughed bloody foam as he attempted to breath his last._

_Thierry had been firing his crossbow. The bolts only seemed to irritate the Harvester. It slapped the still exposed fletched ends in it’s skin. Guillaume had paled and fled when he saw his comrades being torn to bits. One of the Harvester’s many pieces had jumped free of the main body and skittered after the Warden. He only ran a few hundred yards before the cockroach like creature jumped onto his back and began chewing on the back of his neck._

_Anders had tried to use a Dispel to force the Fade spirit animating the monster to leave. The creature had already proven itself immune to fire and lightning. When he had thrown a fireball it’s way the flames barely caused more than an itch. It only made the stink of rotted flesh worse. He had been choking on the miasma as he attempted to exorcise the spirit from the mountain of corpses. He could barely breath, covering his nose with a scarf he had brought to combat the damp cold that filled many of the tunnels. Even with all his remaining mana, he could not remove the spirit. Guillaume had realized this and was ready to retreat. He had seen how the creature had killed Thierry when he attempted to run. He knew that if he turned tail the beast would send more of it’s spawn after him. If he gave it a distraction then there was the slim chance he would escape while it was busy._

_He removed on of the small knives he kept on his person and came up behind the mage. Anders was giving the creature everything he had with the last of his lyrium now drained. He was so focused on the Harvester he didn’t notice the knife until it slid between his ribs to pierce his right lung. Guillaume kicked him to the ground and ran._

_Every breath became like liquid fire as he tried to fill his lungs. He could feel the blood and pleural fluid filling his chest. He gasped and clawed at the wound. He couldn’t heal it. His magic was gone. The creature let out a gleeful howl as it stomped closer, ready to claim another victim._

_Anders had known fear many times in his life. Fear of being alone, of being locked in a dark cell, of watching his friends die, of becoming an empty husk, but all fell short at this moment. Raw, animal panic that came from the most primal place in his mind was taking over. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything as death came his way. He blacked out._

_~_

Garrett had been preparing another dose of elfroot and Amrita when Anders shot up from his prone position. The blond was on his feet in seconds, one hand out ready to cast as the other reached behind his for his staff. He grasped the empty air for a moment before realizing it wasn’t there. The terror in his eyes slowly faded as he recognized his surroundings. He was in Garrett’s home, his bedroom to be exact. How had he come there? The last thing he remembered…oh Maker, no.

“They’re dead. All dead.” He muttered to himself as he lowered his arms. He was still weak from his fever and his knees buckled as the surge of adrenaline passed. Garrett caught him before he could injure himself further.

“Got you,” Garrett huffed as he helped him back to bed. Anders clung to him, still shaking as he lay back down. Garrett was wary of what Anders had just said. Who was dead? Maker, he prayed that Beth was alright. He would ask as soon as Anders was better.

“Leibe. Mein leibling.” He said, barely willing to believe his own eyes. He cupped a dark bearded cheek with one of his shaking hands. When it didn't fade away like so many of his dreams, Anders knew it to be true. “Gott sei dank.” Garrett gently brushed his jawline and kissed him. Garrett had missed him so much and finally he was home. “How did I get here?” Anders asked, his eyes darting about as he attempted to recall what had happened in the tunnels after Guillaume stabbed him. “I was in the Deep Roads…I shouldn’t…” Anders reached behind him to feel where a gapping stab wound should have been and felt only a slight raised line of scar tissue. “It’s gone, but that’s not possible. I had no mana, no lyrium.” Garrett took a look at the spot Anders kept touching. He saw only a thin white scar. One that he wasn’t sure he had seen before. It was strange, but there was surely an explanation.  

“You should rest, sweetheart.” Garrett tried to say with a smile, not wanting to Anders to see he was having some of the same unease. There were many questions to be answered, but it wouldn’t help Anders at the moment. He was clearly still sick and it would only agitate his condition. The Warden looked like he was going to refuse, but did Garrett asked.

“Stay please?” Anders asked, not wanting to be alone with his thoughts. He had missed his leibling every day since leaving Kirkwall. He had wanted to contact him so badly, but the Commander had clamped down on all communications coming and going from the Vigil. There was no guarantee that the First Warden didn’t have spies reading their messages already. Anders hated the idea of silence, but hated putting Garrett in danger even more. He had been hoping the Maker would find a way to bring them back together. Perhaps the divine had reached out to him in the moments he could not recall. Garrett mixed up a decidedly foul concoction of elfroot and Amrita that could have been sweetened with honey without losing potency. He held his breath as he swallowed. It still tasted faintly of stagnant lake water, but still better than anything Velanna had ever put together. Though there was a good chance she had made hers taste awful on purpose. The elf always hated having to make healing potions for her human comrades and would mutter about working like a servant for the shems. As sorry as he was about potentially leaving her to die in the Deep Roads due to her own stubbornness, he wasn't going to miss her potions. 

Garrett lay down and moved close. He had been worried about Anders’ ribs until he saw that the mage was able to take deep breaths. The swelling on Anders’ right side was already beginning to go down, hinting that the bones were only bruised. He kissed the mage’s shoulder and rested his hand just over his heart. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Anders relaxed as the other mage traced a series of three circles over his heart. He slipped back into oblivion and slept the sleep of a non-mage. Garrett waited until the mage was dead to the world before he got out of the bed, careful not to jostle the sleeping mage. He wanted answers to questions that Anders was not likely to have answers for. His beloved had stumbled onto his threshold in the middle of the night and covered in Maker knows what. The urgency in those knocks, even if Anders didn't remember, told Garrett something was seriously wrong.  The witch had hinted that a storm was soon to hit as the Wardens began to bicker among their ranks.

The common threat of a Blight had passed and there was no great enemy demanding their unified cooperation. The political turmoil that had engulfed the Wardens of the Anderfels was spreading out from Weisshaupt. Even the lowest ranking member had a part to play in the grand scheme. Those who supported the winning side would ride out the coming days and the losers would pay a high price. The division between the different branches in each nation made it difficult to see who was friend or foe. As an outsider, Garrett was mostly unaware of this. He knew there was something going on, but Warden secrecy rebuffed him from more. The few Wardens that passed through Kirkwall kept to themselves. Not even Varric could pick up anything from them.

There were other methods of gathering intelligence about the Wardens, but they were less concerned about the methods of intelligence collecting than some of Garrett's more reputable friends.

He wrote down an apology to Anders, promising that if he awoke to find him gone it would only be for a short time. He left it on the now empty pillow he had just been using so that it could not be missed. Garrett shut the door, but left it unlocked. Archon sat down by the closed door as his master instructed him to keep watch. The dog let out a huff, realizing that it would probably be a long time before he got his side of the bed back.

Garrett found his mother taking tea with one of her Hightown friends, a comtess of some minor Antivan city if he as right. Leandra gave him a mild scolding for missing breakfast, but forgave him when he mentioned that a friend had come in the early hours needing some assistance. She didn't ask, assuming it might have been Isabela needing a place to crash or that odd white haired elf that seemed sweet on the maid. He gave her a quick kiss to the cheek, promising to be back soon. She gave him a playful swat, "go on my darling, the comtess and I will be quite fine on our own. Stay much longer and she'll arrange a match between that niece of hers and you." She whispered the last part, knowing the comtess was very likely planning the wedding already.

"I'll be back, a pleasure to see you my lady," the middle aged woman almost blushed as the young mage gave her one of his most charming smiles. It was all he could not to roll his eyes. He was getting a bit fed up with all the spinster aunts and fretting mothers that wanted to betroth him to their nieces or daughters. His mother at least fended of the most persistent ones. She would have loved a small flock of little Hawkes, but she preferred him to be happy. In whatever choice he made.

Before leaving he found Orana in the kitchen and instructed her to bring up a tray of her fresh bread and stew up to his room in an hour. Anders would be awake at about that time and hungry as a half starved dog. A bowl of Orana's special stew would be just what the healer ordered.

~

When Garrett had first moved into Hightown, he had received a note from one of his contacts. The note appeared to simply be an invitation for tea at one of the newer homes in Hightown. It hid the true nature of the note. A reminder that his contact offered a trust, but not to abuse the privilege. He had refrained from using this one as much as possible because he knew that any deal with that man would always have a high price. Their previous deal had almost gotten Garrett killed. The house the note had sent them to was built in the newer parts of Hightown. Until quite recently, it had belonged to a minor Orlesian nobleman. The man’s family had been quite wealthy at one point, but the nobleman’s decadent tastes had drained what gold remained in his coffers. To avoid scandal he had sold the mansion and left to live to distant relatives in Montsimmard. The new owner had raised more than a few waxed aristocratic eyebrows.

Garrett had knocked on the front door using a solid silverite knocker, a lingering reminder of it’s previous owner. The door was then opened by a tall woman with dark olive skin and a mass of dark hair. She gave them a smile that while friendly, it bordered on sultry.

“My dear Hawke,” there was a trace of a Rivanni accent in her voice, “I see you got my lord husband’s invitation. Please,” she stepped aside, “enter and be welcome at our hearth.”

“It is good to see you again, Nomi.” She gave him another sultry smile before leading through the entryway to the main hall. It was almost twice the size of the Amell estate’s main hall, with a high vaulted ceiling with detailed crown molding and hand crafted wall paper with gold paint. The furniture was dark and made from expensive Antivan leather. The whole room screamed off affluence.

“I had wondered when you would finally visit us,” she motioned for him to take a seat at the long table that dominated the center of the room, “it has been far too long since we had the _pleasure_ of your company.” Her accent thickened a bit as she teased out that particular word. She winked at Garrett, assuring him of her playful nature.

“Nomi,” a man called as he descended from the stairs leading to the second floor, “for Maker’s sake, stop teasing the poor boy.” The mercenary was not wearing the black and silver armor he had previously seen him in, opting for a comfortable crimson tunic and black pants. The lack of armor didn’t make him appear any less dangerous, as he still wore a belt with several small knives. “Hawke,” he clasped the other man’s forearm, “good to see you my friend.”

 

"Hello Johann."   


	16. None Can Tear Asunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We continue on with Act of Dragon Age II, setting up the meeting with the infamous Ser Alrik. Thanks for all the feedback everyone!

_**Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,** _  
_**I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.** _  
_**I shall endure.** _  
_**What you have created, no one can tear asunder.** _

\- Canticle of Trials 1:10

“Hawke, good to see you again. Please, take a seat.” The two men sat at the dark wood table as the lady of the house excused herself to fetch some tea and refreshments. Garrett had to give his hostess credit, she knew how to play her part well. “You’ve been busy I hear, fighting blood mages on the coast and rubbing elbows with Thedas’ best.”

  
“There has been an increasing number of maleficarum,” Garett conceded. “I’m beginning to wonder if the Templars are right to be so paranoid.” The mercenary gave a sneer and scoffed at the notion of validating Templar fear.

  
“Blood magic has been a problem since the time of the ancient Imperium. The Templars are right to worry, but first they need to look inward. There’s been an increasing amount of abuse towards their charges and those in charge do nothing to correct their behavior. Such actions will only push the mages to try darker magics to save themselves.” Garrett knew that the mercenary wasn’t wrong. He had heard about the terrors Uldred unleashed at Kinloch and it was considered one of the more liberal Circles. He was saved from those darker thoughts by Nomi returning with a silver tea tray and a steaming pot. She set a white bone china cup with silver filigree in front of both men before pouring a healthy measure of Rivaini spice tea. The warm scent of cloves, nutmeg, and red tea leaves tickled Garrett’s nose invitingly as he sipped. It was a bit bitter for his taste, but he could see Anders loving it. He would have to find some in the market for his Warden on his way home.

  
“Johann, do any of your contacts know if something is happening in the Grey Wardens?” The mercenary looked at him over the rim of his cup, grey-green eyes carefully considering the question.

  
“Have you asked Varric? The dwarf has ears all over the place.” The mercenary finished his tea and poured himself another cup. This one he added a healthy spoonful of sugar to.

  
“His people haven’t heard anything.” Garrett also had another cup with milk and sugar to soften the bitterness. Garrett could see Johann carefully considering what to say next. The mercenary was always one to way the costs and benefits of any given situation. “Johann, my sister is a Warden and I need to know she is safe.” In the short six months that the Hawke siblings had worked for him, Johann had shown some instances of kindness to Bethany. He had replaced the staff she had lost in Ferelden and provided a book on primal magic when she had expressed interest in continuing her studies. He thought the girl had talent and it would be a shame for it to go to waste. In passing, he had mentioned to Garrett she reminded him of a favorite young cousin that had died many years ago. Another young mage girl full of potential until she was killed by an overzealous Templar in the Antivan City Circle.

  
“I’ll have my people look into it.” Johann sighed, not pleased one of his weaknesses had been used. “But I do want something in return, Hawke. A few of my lyrium runners have heard some strange things in the tunnels under the Gallows in the last few months. And then they found this.” Johann dropped a small pamphlet onto the table. “The ‘Final Solution’ for the mage problem. It calls for every single mage to be made Tranquil.”

  
“You’re trading in lyrium now?” Garrett asked as he flipped through the writings of a maniac. The idea of every mage having their dreams ripped away was horrifying. So terrible that it cast a shadow of doubt on the ‘Final Solution’. “The Chantry won’t look too kindly on that.”

  
“No, they don’t,” Johann said with a smirk, “they like to keep their Templars on a short leash. They know full well the addictive power of lyrium and the wasting hunger it brings. Makes some of their more addicted members more pliable to those who will offer them another dose of the sweet fiery liquid.”

  
“Carver isn’t…” Garrett began to ask. Carver was a full member of the Order now. This required the almost daily intake of lyrium to perform his duties.

  
“Your brother is not one of my buyers. He can be a handful, but that brother of yours does have a strong will. It might protect him from becoming an addict for a little while.” Lyrium was an oddity. In its raw form it was potent enough to kill anyone that came into contact except for dwarves. The processed material could be used by mages and Templars to control magic. Mages could consume lyrium to perform certain rituals and some of the more taxing spells, but their connection to the Fade usually kept their mana in balance. Templars drank it as a method of becoming immune and being able to suppress magic. Prolonged use often caused memory loss, increased paranoia, bouts of extreme aggression and organ failure. Mages could also experience negative side effects of prolonged lyrium use such as vertigo or hearing disembodied voices, but usually recovered after a time. “The runners also found a burnt out rod of blackened lyrium in one of the side passages. The same kind used for the Rite of Tranquility.” A shiver of fear worked its way down Garrett’s back. “You have noticed the large number of Tranquil in the Gallows? There are rumors of some being full mages before the brand was inflicted on them. Just last month I heard they made some mage called Karl from Kinloch Hold undergo the Rite because they suspected him of communicating with an apostate. ”

  
“But that goes against Chantry Law!” Garrett said, his heart now racing at the prospect of being forced to undergo the Rite of Tranquility, to be made a hollow shell of himself. “Mages that have gone through their Harrowing can’t be made Tranquil. You can’t think the Grand Cleric would allow this.”

  
“Has a Harrowing ever stopped the Templars from treating their charges like chattel?” Both men looked at Nomi, her face had gone a little pale as she took a seat at her husband’s left, “in recent years the Gallows has attracted the worst kind of people.” Garrett remembered when he had talked with Ser Thrask after the incident with the Starkhaven mages. He had said the same thing. Could he be the source of Johann’s information? The man didn’t seem to mind turning to outside help when there was something very large at stake.

  
“I’m not certain what to believe, but one doesn’t survive long in my world by being skeptical. It may be just a rumor,” the mercenary didn’t sound convinced, “but even lies have a grain of truth to them.”

  
“What if you’re wrong?” Garrett asked, “what if this is just something the Templars made up to scare mages into submission? It wouldn’t be the first time they did so.”

  
“If it is just a story, then that will be the end of it. If it is not,” Johann gave a vague, all-encompassing gesture, “then we shall deal with it when the time comes. I would like to have you at my side when I confront Ser Alrik. You could be quite useful in persuading him to talk.” Sensing Garrett’s uneasiness about the whole matter he added, “I’ll owe you a favor after this, anything you like. Within reason of course.” Garrett considered the offer. From what he had heard of Ser Alrik, it was possible for him to attempt such an extreme measure of control on the mages. The man was a sadist and took pleasure in tormenting others. However, that did not mean he had persuaded his superiors to his cause. He hated the sadistic bastard, but he wasn’t going to kill him if there was no cause.

  
“Alright, but I want you to promise that we won’t kill the man if there isn’t need. He’s a bastard, but murder is murder.” The mercenary didn’t appear to like the idea of allowing the bastard to live another second, but conceded.

  
“It must be nice to see the world in such tones of black and white, Hawke, but some of us have to operate in the gray spaces.” Garrett wouldn’t budge on the matter, “very well, I agree to your terms, but if he attacks first, I make no promises. I will defend my men and myself. Are we clear?”

  
“Crystal clear. No killing except in defense.” The two men shook hands to seal the deal. Johann left shortly after finishing the last of the spiced tea to make preparations for the excursion into the tunnels beneath Darktown where Ser Alrik was rumored to take mages for the Rite. Garrett was able to get the name of the vendor in the Hightown market who sold the tea from his hostess. Nomi had noted that he had only appeared to tolerate the tea because of the large amount of milk and sugar he had dumped in. She gave him a sly smile and asked whom he was trying to curry favor with. Surely they must be something special for Garrett to be thinking of them while making deals with a notorious sellsword. When Garrett attempted to brush it off with a slight redness burning his ears, she let out a hearty laugh before telling him to pick up some light sweet biscuits from the baker who sold her wares the next stall over. He thanked her for the advice and was happy to leave before she could make him red as a tomato.

  
~

  
Anders was still sleeping when Garrett returned home. There was a bowl of Orana’s stew wrapped in a thick cloth and set by the hearth to keep warm until the mage woke. The girl must have not wanted to disturb her master’s guest as it appeared untouched. His fever seemed down when Garrett felt his brow. He wanted to let him sleep on, but knew that Anders would need fluids. In the kitchen he boiled up a pot of water and added the leave s to let them steep.

  
Garrett set the tray on table closest to Anders’ side of the bed before gently attempting to wake the sleeping Warden. He ran a calloused hand on Anders’ arm to wake him. “Love, can you open your eyes please?” The mage let out a grumble as he rolled onto his back, blinking slowly as he did so.

  
“Leibling,” his voice sounded a bit scratchy and he swallowed uncomfortably. With some prompting, he sat up and took the steaming mug that wafted the rich scent of cloves. He was so parched he drained the mug in a few swallows, barely tasting the brew. The next cupful was consumed with the same vigor, Anders coughing as he drank too fast and choked a bit. “Thank you, that’s much better,” Anders said as he drank the third cup much slower. Garrett couldn’t help but be pleased by the appreciative hum Anders let out as he finally tasted his tea.

  
“How are you feeling?” Garrett asked as the blonde set his cup aside.

  
“Tired, even with all the sleep.” Anders rubbed his eyes. The black circles under his eyes had diminished, but not gone away. “I think something hit me,” he gingerly pressed his right side, “they feel bruised, but I don’t remember how.” He hissed as he shifted a bit, “maybe one fracture, can’t do anything but bind it.”

  
“You don’t remember?” Anders shook his head, “what’s the last thing you do remember?” The Warden went a bit pale at the question. He didn’t want to remember. He had seen his fellow Wardens torn to pieces and been left for dead by that bastard Guillaume. Wait, he had been stabbed in the lung and choking on his own blood before the black out. He should be dead. There was no way he could still be alive and in Kirkwall of all places. He had been stuck in the dark. So sure it was all over. And then… “Anders? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” The mage had gone catatonic. Garrett cupped his face and tried coaxing the blonde back with a few gentle taps on the cheek. After a few terrifying minutes, Anders blinked and came back to himself. “Thank the Maker, are you alright?”

  
“I don’t know,” Anders answered in a quiet tone, “I remember the tunnels and the screams.” The last word came out with a sharp hiss, his legs drew up close to his chest as he curled in on himself in a moment of instinctual response to pure terror. The primal urge to run and run and run…the thing was close, he could feel its hot, sticky mockery of breath on the back of his neck. “It was wrong. An abomination in the Maker’s eyes. It wanted…” that horrible rotting stench that soaked everything. He could feel the vomit trying to crawl its way up his throat as he gasped for air. “The creature…it was made of them. The dead. It killed and became them.” His voice cracked and a sob escaped as he thought of the other wardens being used for that creature’s body. How that could have been him.

  
Garrett pulled him close as the tremors started to wrack his still fevered body. His ribs ached and protested the movement, but he could care less. He pressed his face into the side of Garrett’s neck and breathed in the comforting smell of a summer thunderstorm. It pushed the memory of the beast back into the shadowed recesses of his mind. He gripped the back of Garrett’s shirt with claw-like fingers that threatened to rip the fabric.

  
“I have you,” Garrett whispered as he held the Warden, “I’m here, love, I’m here.” For a while he just held Anders and rubbed soothing circles along his back. After a time, Anders finally began to calm. The occasional tremor still shook him, but he could take solace in the warm embrace. “My dear love, we’re safe here.” Yes, there were no tunnels, no monsters, no darkspawn or Templars to rip them apart.

  
“Safe,” he sighed, going limp in Garrett’s arms. “With mein leibling, mein einzige herz,” he rested his forehead against Garret’s. Their noses rubbed together and a tiny smile found its way to Anders’ lips. The beautiful moment was interrupted by a loud growl from the warden’s stomach. Garrett’s eyes flickered with humor.

  
“Want a sandwich?” Another gurgling growl answered the question for him.

  
“You, my love, will inspire romantic poets for centuries to come.”

  
~

  
Garrett watched over the sleeping mage in his arms. Anders had eaten two full bowls of Orana’s rich stew, half a loaf of bread, and a sweet pear before the hunger was sated. In between bites he told Garrett about Commander Cousland’s removal from power. The First Warden was afraid of him that much was obvious. The Hero of Ferelden had the potential to replace him in Weisshaupt if enough of the Wardens stood behind him. The First Warden could not allow such a thing to happen and started his campaign to destroy his rival.

  
The Commander was stripped of his rank, reduced to a mere senior officer barely above a recruit. His supporters from Weisshaupt, such as Woolsey, were recalled or dismissed from service entirely. Fearing for the men and women he had conscripted, Aedan had began sending them off to other outposts. Bethany and Nathaniel had been the first to leave. Warden Stroud had been passing through on his way to the Free Marches after picking up a few recruits from the Bannorn. Stroud avoided politics and was one of the best options to keep his people safe. Nathaniel had not wanted to leave his home again after reuniting with his sister. He had been persuaded to obey by Bethany. He adored the mage and would do anything to protect her. They had left the Vigil together, Anders and Aedan watching from the gate tower as they began their new life. He would miss the surly archer and his fellow mage, but at least they had each other.

  
Aedan had planned to send Anders to Nevarra for a bit, but the new Commander had assigned him and Velanna to that damned mission at Amgarrak before he could act. He didn’t know what Velanna’s ultimate fate was, but he hoped it wasn’t as a shuffling ghoul. Even she did not deserve that. The only good thing to come of the whole affair was the Wardens would think Anders dead and not come looking for him. Perhaps the Maker was giving the two mages a chance for a full life together.  
Anders shifted in his sleep and buried his face in the hollow of Garrett’s throat. Garrett didn’t know what was coming next for him and his warden, but if they faced it together they would survive.


	17. The Maker Guides Their Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a brief trigger warning here before you read. This chapter contains violence, mentions of sexual abuse, and PTSD. For those who may be more sensitive to these topics, I suggest you read the first two parts only.

_All men are the Work of our Maker's Hands,_   
_From the lowest slaves_   
_To the highest kings._   
_Those who bring harm_   
_Without provocation to the least of His children_   
_Are hated and accursed by the Maker_

_-Canticle of Transfigurations 1:4_

Anders recovered a few days later under Garrett’s attentive care. The herbs Merrill had brought completely lowered his fever in two days. Leandra was a bit surprised to see the Grey Warden again. After giving her a letter from her daughter and news on a potential son-in-law, she had taken a liking to the blonde mage. Her openness towards mages and magic, even though she had no such talent, won him over. He had been so young when he had been taken to the Circle that he barely remembered his mother. It was quite novel for him to have someone trying to fill that role in his life, but he found himself actually liking it. She had been quite delighted when he had moved in. Leandra had grown up in a big family and had given birth to three lively children. The house had been too empty for too long. She had wanted her children to live there with her and perhaps her grandchildren too, but fate had pushed her family apart. She was more than happy to fill her need to mother by doting on a young man around her sons age. It was quite touching really. Living at the estate with Garrett and his mother was the closest thing he’d known to a real family.

  
She had the misfortune to hear some of the crazy stories the Grey Warden had over dinner. It would have not been so terrible if not for Garrett talking about some of his own. Someday, she repeatedly swore, your antics are going to be the end of me. Then she would rope Anders in and make him promise to keep an eye on her boy. It made Garrett’s chest fill with warmth to see his mother accept Anders into their home and her heart. It seemed the appropriate time to tell her about the full nature of his and Anders’ relationship/ He wanted her blessing to do it for however many years the Maker had deigned to give him.

  
“Mother, I have something important to tell you, and I want you to let me say everything before you anything.” Leandra set aside her tea and book to give Garrett her full attention.

  
“Of course darling, is everything alright?”

  
“Yes, well I hope so, there are a few things I need to say.” Garrett was twitchy and nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot. He had never told his mother about his preferences and how they were not conducive to her desire for a new generation of Hawkes. He had spent most of his time in those formative years in the tower and then supporting his family in the wake of his Father’s death. There had been a few casual flings, but no one he intended to spend his life with. Until now that is. “I found the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.” He smiled anxiously at the blonde mage. Anders took his hand to give him something to hang on to as he continued, “I know you wanted a battalion of grandchildren, but they’re not going to come from me. I hope you will accept the choice I’ve made.”

  
“Oh my darling boy.” Leandra stood up and walked over to cup her son’s face in her hands, “all I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy.” She leaned up to press a kiss to his forehead, “and if this is what makes you happy, then I am too.” A shiver of relief went through both mages, “I suppose this means we have a new member in our family. Perhaps we should have a little family dinner soon, we could invite Carver and Gamlen.” Garrett’s smile turned into a frown at the mention of his uncle. He had never gotten along with the man. He didn’t want to ruin a potentially nice evening with Gamlen’s drunken insults.

  
“Carver can come if he behaves, but no Gamlen. The last time we had dinner with him he drank three bottles of wine and vomited all over Orana’s apron.” Anders grimaced, he had only met the man once and that had been enough. The man had made more than a few crude remarks about mages and staffs that would have even made Oghren wince.

  
“Fine,” Leandra gave in, “but I expect you to also behave while your brother is here. You’re not little boys anymore.”

  
“That’s silly mother, boys don’t grow up, we just get taller,” Leandra just rolled her eyes. She knew her sons and therefore knew he was right. Still, it would be lovely if family dinners didn’t devolve into food fights.

  
“I swear, it’s like living with a bunch of children,” she released her son and gave Anders a peck on the cheek, “do try to keep this one out of trouble, please?”

  
“I’ll try, but no promises,” Leandra gave him a lighthearted little swat for his cheekiness. While there was small bit of disappointment that her eldest would not be giving her grandbabies to spoil rotten, she was happy in his choice of partner. A Warden was someone who understood the importance of duty and honor. It helped he was a mage so that her son did not have to hide his abilities from Anders. But most importantly, he made Garrett smile. Not the faked polite smile he wore for the nobles of Hightown, but a real smile that she had not seen nearly enough of since Malcolm’s death. As long as he made her boy smile like that, she would happily accept him into their family.

  
~

  
“You lose again Blondie, pay up.” Varric said with wide grin as he laid out his cards. Four songs, Anders glared at the hand, the dwarf had cheated. Then what was the point of Wicked Grace if not to outcheat your opponent. The Warden tossed another silver onto the pile as Varric swept up his winnings.

  
“Why did I agree to a game of Wicked Grace? I always lose.” Anders grumbled as he took a swig of the ale Norah had brought up to the dwarf’s room.

  
“Maybe you’re the masochist type,” Varric began shuffling the deck again, not even asking if the mage was going to play another round. The mage couldn’t play worth a damn, but he had some pretty crazy stories that not even Varric could make up in his wildest dreams. The Black Marsh had been his favorite so far.

  
“I already told you Varric, no details.” His firm tone was slightly undercut by the smirk on his lips. He was saved from further questions by Garrett returning from the common room with Isabela and Merrill in tow. Garrett took a seat next to his Warden, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth and wrapping an arm around his waist. The other mage had shown himself to be very tactile with his affection, little touches here and there that were a constant reminder of their freedom. Garrett had managed to avoid Templar eyes for a decade so it took no great effort for him to act as if he weren’t a man on the run. Anders was a different story. Technically the only legal free mage in the whole of Kirkwall, he still couldn’t help but look over his shoulder as if expecting to be clapped in irons and dragged back to Ferelden. A possessive hand curling around his hip pushed the worries away and banished the Templars back to their posts.

  
“Hawke, you want in this next round? Maybe you can win back some of Blondie’s coin.” Garrett shook his head as he grinned and dropped a few coppers to the small pile at the center of the table.

  
“Sure, can’t do worse than Sebastian. I thought from all his stories of his wild days he would be a master of Wicked Grace. Instead we all got treated to a Chantry brother in nothing but his codpiece.” Isabela laughed and clapped her hands at the memory. She had managed to get everyone in on a game of strip Wicked Grace after several rounds of an imported Antivan brandy. Not surprisingly, Isabela kept all of her clothes as each and every round stripped the other players of another layer. By the end Garrett, Fenris, Varric, and Merrill were down to their smalls. They all quit to save what little dignity they had left, but Sebastian had insisted on one last hand to win back his pants. To no one’s surprise Isabela won that round. As a sign of her generosity, she let Vael keep his codpiece to preserve a tiny modicum of modesty.

  
“Oh, sweet thing, I always play my best when there is incentive. That one’s got a giant stick up the arse, I had to see him make a proper idiot of himself.” Isabela said with a sly smirk as she took a look at her cards. Garrett shook his head with good humor and tried figure out if the angel of death card was at the top or bottom of the deck. He had an ok hand, two pairs with serpents and daggers, but not a winning one.

  
“At least he didn’t try to read you the entire Canticle of Benedictions again.” Garrett picked up another dagger as he discarded. Varric laid down the angel of death and everyone spread out their hand. “Ha! Pay up!”

  
“Never should have taught you how to play,” Varric grumbled as Garrett grabbed his winnings.

  
“You didn’t,” Garrett counted the coin. “Learned from a Chantry sister in Lothering. She also taught me how to pretend I don’t know.”

  
“You dirty little liar,” Isabela exclaimed, “I’ve never been so proud!” Varric did not share her enthusiasm. He had lost an entire sovereign to the apostate. They might have gone for one last hand if not for a loud knock on the suite’s door. A large red headed man the size of a small mountain ducked under the doorway and held out a small rolled piece of parchment. Garrett knew the man, Johann’s right hand and personal body guard.

  
“It’s time.” He grunted out in a deep, graveled voice, “the boss wants you there in two hours. Come prepared.” Garrett unrolled the paper to see a neat little map of the sewer lines under Darktown with one of the tunnels marked. Garrett had avoided the Darktown tunnels as much as possible since the incident with Tarohne and her cult. The tunnels were filthy, completely covered in chokedamp and human waste. It was a place where criminals and the destitute lived side by side, the latter only because there no other options.

  
“We’ll be there.” Varric and Isabela both agreed to accompany the mages into the filthy sewers. Merrill would have gone, but she was helping one of her friends in the Alienage with her sick child. Garrett was happy to leave her behind. He didn’t want her anywhere near Templars. Both mages had to go back to Hightown for their staves and some potions.

  
“Do you trust him?” They had stopped in the market to pick up some herbs for health poultices. Garrett had just finished haggling with an old woman for a handful of elfroot and two pouches of spindleweed. Garrett had been pocketing his change when Anders asked.

  
“Johann? Not really, but I know he won’t turn me over to the Templars. He hates them almost as much as I do.” That was a bit more encouraging, he didn’t trust the man, but he didn’t expect to end up in the Gallows because of him. “You didn’t notice that his wife is mage?” Anders raised an eyebrow. He had only met the lady briefly when she had come to the Amell estate to give Garrett some information on the Grey Wardens that her husband had found. How had he not noticed a fellow mage? Yes, she was a bit …. distracting with that voice like smoke and honey and curves that could make a chantry brother sweat. But still, he should have sensed something. “Don’t feel too bad, I had no idea at first either. Not until she tossed me into a wall.”

  
“Pretty and dangerous,” Anders laughed, “sounds like a winning combination.” Garrett gave a slight roll of his eyes, but didn’t disagree.

  
“Just don’t let him hear you say that, he’ll cut your balls off if he thinks you’re making a pass at Nomi.” If he were not happy with Garrett that would have killed any desire to flirt with the lady. He had always been rather fond of certain parts of his anatomy. That didn’t dim his excitement of there being another free mage in the city, and hopefully one that didn’t dabble in blood magic. He had tried to like Merrill and be more sensitive to her since his return to Kirkwall as she was Garrett’s friend, but he just couldn’t get past the blood mage thing. It was probably a lingering bit of trauma from what he had seen Uldred do to the tower and it’s occupants under the influence of a demon summoned by blood magic.

  
The two hours passed quickly as the two mages brewed health and restorative potions. Back in the tower, before Garrett’s escape, the two had often worked together in the infirmary wing. Garrett didn’t have Anders’ natural abilities when it came to healing, but he wasn’t too shabby at brewing. He had even impressed the blonde by making a palatable health position. They didn’t say much as they chopped up the herbs and measure out the ingredients, but it was a strangely comfortable silence.

  
~

  
The tunnels were filthier than Anders could have imagined. The smell alone was enough to make him gag, the mixture of human waste, rotting organic matter, and Maker knows what else with an almost visible vapor floating over the ground. He couldn’t believe that some people actually came down here voluntarily. Garrett was keeping pace with him, looking just a bit green about the gills as they descended further into the bowels of the city.

  
Ahead of them was the small group of mercenaries that Johann had ordered to come along. They were all wearing armor similar to their leader’s black Antivan leather and silverite ensemble. Isabela had made more than a few comments about how much she loved men in leather. If not for the helmets, Anders was sure at least one of the men was blushing at all the innuendos.

  
There had been small pockets of smugglers along the way, some had resisted and forced the group to fight, but most just scattered fled deeper into the sewers. There had been so sign of any Templar activity and Garrett was ready to call it a night when there was the echoing sound of sobs bouncing across stone walls. He couldn’t make out any words, but the crying sounded like a person in terror. They had hurried to find the source of the noise.

  
At the end of a long, probably slave carved tunnel was a small open cavern. There were a number of armor clad men who had their backs to the tunnel, clearly not expecting to be disturbed. Garrett didn’t need to see the flaming blade on the front of their armor to know who they were. The long purple skirt was a dead giveaway. He could hear a monotone voice chastising the crying girl, telling her how bad she had been, and that she wouldn’t be a problem for much longer. Garrett boldly strode into the cavern, the Templars who had been watching parting and reaching for their blades simultaneously. The tall bald man with a large beard at the center turned to face Garrett.

  
“What are you doing to that girl! Get away from her!” Garrett unstrapped his staff and dropped into a defensive position. His companions were quick to join him, Varric loading a round of bolts into Biana, Isabela twirling her long daggers in anticipation, and Anders summoning up the arcane energies.

  
“This mage has broken the rules, she must be punished.” Ser Alrik was not deterred by the potential fight, “leave us to complete our holy duty or pay the price.”

  
“I must really be a lapsed Andrastian. I wasn’t aware rape was a holy duty,” Johann’s men had taken their position, bows and daggers ready to take down every Templar in the area. The mercenary had managed to get behind one of the younger Templars and held a razor sharp knife to the boy’s throat. “I consider myself a fair man, do as Hawke says, get away from the girl and perhaps we won’t paint the walls with the blood of your fellows.” The younger man was shaking as he felt the edge of the knife prick open a small patch of skin and blood trailed down his neck.

  
“We do the work of the Maker, you godless heathen. The Maker smiles on us this day and will not allow you to stop us.” Alrik unsheathed his sword, “be strong brothers, show these heretics the might of our righteous cause.” As Garrett had feared, the situation deteriorated into a blood bath. Johann slit the young man’s throat and tossed his lifeless body aside before giving his men the order to attack, kill everyone but Ser Alrik. He wanted him alive for questioning. The Templars, though clad in solid plate, were not fast enough to dodge barrages of arrows and bolts aimed at their heads. Those that did not fall in the first wave were hacked and slashed to bits by overzealous mercenaries. Garrett had faced off with Ser Alrik. The older man was a powerful swordsmen, but it was clear he had never done much fighting out of a sparring ring. He was subdued when Garrett was able to disarm him with a flick of his staff and a blow to the face with the flat of blade. The man surrendered, he was not eager to die. “I surrender,” he growled, kneeling in an act of submission, “what do you want from me?” Before Garrett could question him on the Tranquil solution, Johann had come up behind the Templar and wrenched his arm, dislocating it. The Templar howled in pain and cursed him. “Bastard, what do you want?”

  
“I’m thinking some compensation for all the misery you’ve caused,” Johann held the dislocated limb back at a sharp angle, forcing the Templar to lean forward, whimpering from the pain. “Henly,” the mercenary’s large bodyguard came forward, “take the girl to our friends in the underground, tell them I’ll cover the expenses.” The large red headed man grunted and with more gentleness than can be expected of a man the size of a small mountain, carried her out of the tunnel.

  
“What are you doing?” Garrett asked, he had agreed to acting in defense, not torture. Varric and Isabela didn’t seem at all bothered with the idea of a little torture. The man was a sadist and rapist.

  
“You should cut of his favorite bits,” Isabela suggested, “that seems like fair punishment. I’m certain the Tranquil girls would not disagree if they could.”

  
“Perhaps, but I don’t want him bleeding out.” The Templar was shaking and whimpering from the pain of his dislocated arm. “What’s the matter, Serah? Surely you’ve done this to mages before, haven’t you ever wondered what it feels like? Here,” he took ahold of a finger, “perhaps this is familiar as well.” He snapped the digit as the Templar screamed and tried to get away. “Of perhaps this?” Another finger was snapped.

  
“Makers sake,” Garrett grabbed the mercenary before he could break another finger, “his men are dead, is there really a need for torture?” The mercenary narrowed his predator gaze at the mage, clearly unhappy at having his authority questioned. Garrett stepped back before he could get a knife to the belly. He had seen this once before, when Sebastian Vael had hired the company to deal with the Flint mercenary company that had killed his family. One of the leaders had been boasting about raping Sebastian’s sister and nieces right before the attack. Johann had taken care to save him for last, taking him away to his Darktown headquarters for ‘questions’. Garrett hadn’t seen what Johann had done to the man, but he had seen the body a few days later when it was tossed without ceremony into the sewers. There wasn’t a single inch of skin not covered in blood. Alrik, who was rumored to enjoy the same ‘activities’ as the Flint company mercenary was likely to receive the same treatment.

  
“What I do is for all the children he has raped and all victims of men such as this. I do this for everyone, for you, for her.” The mercenary choked up a little at the last word, but did not release his hold on Ser Alrik. “Hold him,” he ordered two of his men, removing a wooden baton from his belt. He held it high and began striking the man’s head with fast, vicious blows that did not tear the skin, but left bright red welts. He hit hard enough to burst blood vessels and crack the bones of the skull without completely fracturing them. Alrik would likely die a slow death of internal hemorrhaging if left in such a state. Even Anders, who despised Templars on principal, was starting to feel a tiny amount of empathy for the man. It was one thing to kill in the heat of battle, but another entirely to torture. “I think we have his attention now,” one of the mercenaries handed Johann a long piece of damp cloth. Johann tied it behind Alrik’s head and stuck the baton beneath the cloth at the back of Alrik’s head. “Tell me about the Tranquil Solution,” he barked, turning the baton once to tighten the cloth.

  
“Maker spit on you all. You and your apostate whore.” The baton was tightened another half rotation, Alrik began squirming as the cloth pressed on his welts, “when I get out of here, I will come for every apostate that dares hide behind you and your filth.” He spat, glaring at Garrett now, “no name will save you dogs as I drag you to the Gallows myself.” A powerful kick to the kidneys stopped his tirade. Garrett’s heart was racing at the thought of his mother being forced to watch him being taken from her all over again. He couldn’t put her through that again.

  
“What is the Tranquil Solution?” The cloth was constricted tight across the Templar’s forehead, making his watery eyes bulge from their sockets. He was crying from the pain, but still cursing them all to the furthest reaches of demon filled hells. The mercenary wasn’t able to tighten the cloth much more without completely crushing the man’s cranium. The other arm was popped free from it’s socket, now leaving the man unable to use either arm. The two men holding him down pulled on the arms, stretching to tendons to near ripping. The remaining fingers on his right hand were all snapped in quick succession. “What is the Tranquil solution?”

  
“I wanted all mages made Tranquil.” Alrik whimpered, with his arms almost ripped from his body and his skull nearly shattered, “I wanted them all Tranquil. They can’t summon demons if they’re Tranquil.”

  
“They can’t say no either, can they?” Johann knelt in front of the man, forcing him to look into his eyes. “Answer me.” He gave a sharp backhanded slap. The Templar just moaned in pain and gave a weak nod. “When is the Knight Commander going to carry out your plan?”

  
“She won’t, she said no, please, she said no,” the Templar begged, “she said it went too far.”

  
“Why should I believe a word you say, you sniveling pile of dog shit. Where’s the proof?”

  
“In my pocket, take it, take it please.” The mercenary extracted a small rolled up scroll from the Templar’s pocket. It had a broken red seal on it impressed with the Knight Commander’s seal. He scanned the parchment before giving it to Garrett.

  
“Seems out Templar here is capable of telling the truth, the Knight Commander and the Grand Cleric both condemned the idea.” Garrett saw both signatures and felt a small bit of relief. The Knight Commander was a harsh woman, but she wasn’t about to force mages to undergo needlessly cruel actions for things they hadn’t done. Perhaps she was more reasonable than he had initially thought. He would have to ask Aeryn in the next letter he passed through Ser Thrask.

  
“Thank the Maker for small mercies,” Garrett breathed heavily, “I think he’s given us everything we need. Please, end this now.” The man was already likely dying from internal bleeding, there was no need for them to continue breaking his body. The mercenary gave him a hard sneer.

  
“You think he would do the same for you?” Garrett shook his head.

  
“No, but that’s why we’re better than him.” The mercenary gave him a strange look and said nothing. Perhaps he didn’t feel the same as Garrett. He was after all a hired killer. He may have taken up residence in Hightown, but he never pretended to be a gentle man. Mercy was a foreign idea to those who lived their lives by the blade. “We gain nothing from causing more pain.”

  
“Not you, but” the mercenary sighed, “I suppose there is no benefit to allow this dog another breath.” He took a small sharp knife and thrust up into the base of the skull, severing the brain stem. Alrik twitched and fell over dead a second later. “We should leave now, I’ll send a crew to clean up before the Knight Commander even knows Alrik has left his bed.” Garrett was happy to leave the place behind. The journey back to the Darktown entrance they had used earlier seemed somehow longer than the trip into the cavern. Anders easily kept pace with the other mage, watching his pale face for any sign of impending panic or sickness. He had seen the color drain from Garrett’s face as the mercenary had taken his sweet time interrogating Alrik. The viciousness of the act suggested that this had been far more personal for the mercenary than he let on. He would ask Garrett later if he was up to answering any questions. It probably would be a while before that happened though. Instead, he contented himself with placing the occasional concerned touch to Garrett’s shoulder and forearm to send the smallest bits of calming spirit energy.

  
They went their separate ways once they reached Lowtown. Varric and Isabela went to go have a drink at the Hanged Man. The two mages were invited to join, but politely turned them down. Anders made up an excuse that Garrett and he were going to drop by Gamlen’s place to deliver his weekly stipend. It wasn’t entirely untrue, but they had already taken care of that particular trial that afternoon after buying herbs from the market. Perhaps it was unnecessary to lie to Garrett’s friends, Varric had this expression that suggests he already knew. Varric had been a good friend to both of them, so he felt a bit guilty about lying to the dwarf, but he can always make up for it with stories about the near impossible stories of the Warden Commander and a few pints of the Amaranthine ale in Garrett’s cellar.

  
Their way back up to Hightown was slow. Garrett was panting by the time they had reached the final level of stairs. He was pale and sweating. With barely a seconds warning he ducked into one of the small alleyways and dry heaved. He let out a few shaky breaths, giving a few more dry heaves before he was able to calm himself down again. He was kneeling with his forehead pressed against the cold stone, a welcome sensation on his feverish skin. He had shut his eyes and tried to force the swirling emotions back down. He was angry and scared and disgusted, all knotting up his insides. It was the solid cold stone and warm hands on his back that kept him from going into a full panic attack. Anders was rubbing large soothing circles on his back, whispering soft words that he barely heard.

  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, not daring to open his eyes. He didn’t want to see the other mage look at him with pity. He knew he must look absolutely pathetic.

  
“Don’t say that,” Anders pet the soft, dark hair that curled ever so slightly at the base of Garrett’s neck. “You have nothing to be sorry about.” The dark haired mage wasn’t shaking so violently anymore, just the occasional shiver that was due more to the night chill than any panic. They stayed there for a bit as Garrett calmed himself. Anders wanted to take him into his arms to chase off any remaining anxiety his leibling was feeling. He wasn’t sure that doing so in the middle of a dark alley was the best idea and decided to wait until they were back under the safety of the Amell estate’s roof.

  
It took some doing, but he managed to get Garrett back on his feet. Even on his feet, Garrett held onto him, using the other man as an anchor. The other mage kept a tight grip on his hand as they continued home.

  
The house was quiet when they got home, everyone having retired to bed hours ago. It was probably a good thing, Anders didn’t think Leandra would appreciate him bringing her son home in such a state. He led Garrett to the library and got him to sit on the couch in front of the fireplace. The fire was already lit, likely Orana or Bodahn had added more wood before going to bed. The bright orange blaze cast away the last remnants of the night chill, warming both men from head to toe.

  
“You must think I’m pathetic,” Anders looked to his left, Garrett had buried his face in his hands, “getting so worked up over something like that.”

  
“No, I don’t think that at all,” Garrett peeked up from his hands, “I’d be worried if you didn’t feel something. You’re a good person, love.” He smiled at the younger man, “you actually care about those around you, rather than wanting to use them for an end.” He wrapped an arm around the other man’s shoulder and pulled him to his side. Garrett took the opportunity to lay his head against his shoulder, soaking up the comfort like a sponge.

  
“When I was still living in Lothering there was a group of Templars who had been hunting apostates in the Kocari Wilds.” Garrett’s breath tickled Anders’ neck as he spoke, “I remember them bringing in a Chasind man in chains. They said he had tried to use blood magic on a girl, but I think they were wrong. Father said he couldn’t sense any magic on the man. He said they had probably grabbed the wrong person. I wanted to help, but Father said if we did the Templars would just take us instead.” Anders tightened his arms instinctively at the notion of Templars coming after Garrett. Garrett sighed as a soft kiss was pressed to his temple , “they took him into the small holding area under the Chantry and that was the last time we saw him alive. I don’t know what they did, but I could hear him screaming for days. He didn’t even sound human at the end.” Even now, he could recall those terrible, blood curdling sounds that no person should be able to make. More like the sounds of a dying animal than a man. “When they were done, they hung his body near the edge of the Wilds as a warning for any apostates that might attempt to flee. He was so bloody and broken, I didn’t think it was real at first. It was….horrible. I was always terrified what would happen to me or Beth or Father if the Templars found us.” Nightmares had plagued him for years, sometimes he would see the Chasind man’s broken body swinging in the breeze, other times it was Beth or his father. There had been one night where he had dreamed that it was Anders and woke up screaming. For several nights after he had avoided sleeping, unwilling to see the blonde’s shredded body dangling from a tree. The dreams had never completely gone away, but they were less frequent.

  
“And seeing Alrik being tortured made you think of the Chasind?” Garrett nodded, “Andraste’s flaming knickers, I’m impressed you held it together down there.”

  
“I should have handled it better. Alrik was a terrible person, I shouldn’t feel bad about someone hurting him.” Garrett tried to move away, but the older man’s strong arms prevented him from getting away. He couldn’t let Garrett run away again, not physically or emotionally. He needed Garrett to trust him, to let him help.

  
“He was a waste of a human being, but you shouldn’t carry the guilt. You did try to prevent unnecessary casualties, it’s not your fault that Alrik’s men attacked first. And if you tried, you wouldn’t have been able to stop Johann from doing what he wanted. You’d have just gotten a knife in the stomach.” Anders silently cursed the man for forcing Garrett to relive the terrors of his youth. If he thought he could have gotten away with all his limbs attached, he would have punched the mercenary. He had disliked the man for being a hired blade, now he hated him for potentially traumatizing Garrett further. “I don’t blame you for anything, and you shouldn’t either. You tried to do the right thing.” He moved so that he could look into the other man’s eyes, “men like Ser Alrik do not deserve your compassion. Please, let it go.” Garrett’s eyes dropped, unable to hold his gaze.

  
“I’ll try, no promises.”

  
“That’s all I can ask then,” Garrett gave a watery smile, “get some rest love, I’ll be here when you wake.” Garrett nodded and settled back against Anders, resting his cheek against the older man’s chest. He closed his eyes as strong fingers stroked his scalp. He felt safe and warm for the first time that evening. He began to drift off, exhausted and relaxed, content in knowing that someone who wanted him protected and happy was nearby.

  
As Garrett slipped into the Fade, Anders pressed a kiss to the top of his head. He would keep him safe tonight. Tomorrow would bring its challenges all too quickly, but for now, he would enjoy the closeness and completeness that this night brought. He pulled a throw blanket from the back of the couch to cover them. He fell asleep with his nose pressed into thick dark hair that smelled of cedar and ozone, a smile finding its way to his lips as he dreamed of a beautiful young man with eyes that rivaled gemstones in their brilliance. The man in his arms dreamed of a healer whose hair shone like a brand new sovereign in the sun. When Orana went to clean up the fireplace in the morning she found both of them asleep, tightly wrapped in each other’s arms with soft sleepy smiles that the waking world had yet to take away.


	18. Life is Fleeting, Love Immortal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, almost at 1000 views! That's amazing, and it's all thanks to you guys. I will have to write something special for you guys once 1k views is reached. Anyway, moving on with the story in Act 2. Once again, a mild trigger warning for references to past sexual abuse. Plenty of sweetness to make up for it in the rest of the chapter. Certain truths get revealed and the boys have to make some choices. Look who makes a cameo in the Fade. - Fangorn

_**Let the blade pass through the flesh,** _   
_**Let my blood touch the ground,** _   
_**Let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be the last sacrifice.** _

_**\- Canticle of Andraste 7:12** _

 

The next morning came far too quickly in Anders’ opinion. It was as if the previous night had passed by in blink. When he awoke, Garrett was still asleep curled up against his side and lightly snoring. It kind of reminded him of the cat he had left back in Amaranthine, though Pounce was probably happier in a place where he wasn’t likely to be stomped on by oversized hounds or eaten by refugees. The Commander had promised to give the tabby to one of the Vigil’s maids. She had several small children that adored the cat and slipped him scraps whenever he had wandered into the kitchen. The little beast was probably much happier and fatter with them.

Careful not to wake the younger man, he disentangled himself from the blanket and Garrettt’s arms. He wanted to stay, but his stomach was ready to start digesting itself. He carefully rearranged the blanket, tucking the edges in and coaxing Garrett to lie down. The other mage snuffled sleepily as his head came to rest on a pillow, it was an almost perfect imitation of the mabari in the next room. Anders grinned and placed a kiss to his forehead before heading to the larder.

After satisfying his hunger with a loaf of bread, some cold cuts, and an apple, Anders decided it was time to wake Garrett. The other mage would not be happy if he let him sleep in. Garrett was one of those strange people that actually enjoyed torturing themselves with getting up at the crack of dawn. As he left the kitchen and entered the great room, he saw that there was another occupant. It wasn’t Leandra, the dwarves, Orana, or Garrett. He recognized her as the woman who had delivered the information on the Grey Wardens. She turned to face him when the door creaked as it shut behind him.

“Warden Anders, it is good to see you again,” Nomi said, “is Hawke available?”

“Sleeping actually,” Anders replied, “it was a long night.” The dark skinned woman nodded in agreement. Her lips lacked the sultry pout that had graced him during their previous meeting. She looked tired with dark circles around her eyes and a slump to her posture.

“Yes, I imagine so. Please, I was hoping to speak with him about a few things. Things he should know.” Normally, Anders might have given in to such a lovely woman. She was dark skinned temptress in a flowing blue dress that accentuated her curves and obviously aware her sensuality. In a way, it made her just as dangerous as the man she called husband. But today he wasn’t swayed. Garrett had just suffered a mild breakdown. He would not allow it to happen again if he could help it.

“Sorry, but he needs his rest. I can pass on the message for you when he gets up.” The woman crumpled a bit in defeat, not pushing the issue.

“Very well Warden. Tell him he should not trouble himself over the death of Ser Otto Alrik. The sick bastard got what he deserved.” Her words were icy and hard. Again suggesting what he had suspected since last night.

“You knew Alrik didn’t you?” She nodded, “how?”

“Hawke is not the only apostate to have escaped the Circle.” She sighed and took a seat in the chair next to Garrett’s writing desk, “I was born in Rivain, but my mother feared the growing power of the Qunari near Seere so she left and took me to Tantervale. She was forced to give me to the Circle after several Templars caught her attempting to practice the art of seeing. I never saw her again, but I have no doubt they executed her for being a maleficar.” She pulled at the edge of the dress to expose a small sword shaped brand on the back of her left shoulder, “this is the mark all Tantervale mages receive when they are sent to the Circle. It helps the mage hunters identify us should we ever attempt to escape. Ser Alrik was one of Lieutenants assigned to train the hunters.”

“So that’s how you knew about him. You had been under his watch in Tantervale.” Anders hadn’t known much about the Circles outside of Ferelden before joining the Wardens, but he had always heard stories of Templars abusing their power in ways that would have made Knight Commander Greagoir flog his people. The time he had spent in the tower was bad, but he was never tormented just for the fun of it.

“He was cruel to every mage that ever crossed his path, but,” she stopped, swallowing a choking sob, “he was worse with the young girls, especially those how came from Antiva or Rivain. He liked to call them his dark beauties. It was never safe for the girls to walk the halls alone at night, you would come back bruised if you were lucky. Some, weren’t so lucky. We’d see the evidence a short nine months later.” Anders had delivered a number of babies born in the tower, only to hand them over to the Templars, but none of them had been the product of rape. It left him speechless that the Chantry would actually allow such a thing to happen, and not just once. “I was lucky that while he watched and leered, he never actually touched me. I never went anywhere alone, I always had a fellow apprentice or even one of the other Templars to dissuade him from acting.”

“And then you escaped?” Anders had never escaped for very long before joining the Wardens. He had gotten good at sneaking out of the tower, but not very good at staying free. Most of it being his antics he had gotten up to while free and the Templars have his phylactery. The only reason Garrett had escaped and not been pursued was because the Templars had no blood to track him down with.

“About seven years ago I was being transferred to the Circle in Ansburg. I was sent with a pair of Templar escorts as protection, but they were killed by a group of bandits just outside the city. The bandits would have killed me too if there hadn’t been a band of mercenaries passing by. The bandits attempted to fight them, but they were outnumbered and outmatched.” She smiled at the memory of the men who had saved her from eminent death, “one of them was kind to me. I had twisted my ankle and he helped me set it. I wasn’t able to walk, so he let me ride on his horse. He offered me a chance to go anywhere I wanted, now that the Templar who had been carrying my phylactery was dead, but I said no. I had spent my whole life in the Circle, I knew nothing but the structure and order of a disciplined group. I asked if I might travel with them for a bit since I had some skill in force magic. He said yes, and I have not left his side since that day.” It was a bit hard for Anders to imagine the violent man he had seen the previous day as a kind man who had played knight in black leather armor to a woman in distress. But all people have their soft spots, so maybe his apostate wife was Johann’s. It did, however, explain his utter disdain for the Templar order and why he had never attempted to turn Garrett over to the Gallows. “You don’t have to tell him everything, but make sure he knows he should not feel any guilt about Alrik. With any luck, the man’s spirit will aimlessly wander the Void for all eternity.”

“I will.” She stood up, straighter now that she had unburdened herself.

“One last thing,” Nomi handed Anders a small piece of rolled up parchment, “I passed an elven woman with tattoos on her face on my way here. She asked that I to give to this to Serah Hawke. She said it was about her son and Hawke needs to come to the Alienage as soon as possible.” Anders thanked her and showed her out, with promises to pass on her words and gratitude to Garrett. It might raise Garrett’s spirit to know he had saved girls from suffering the same fate as those in Tantervale.

When he went to check on Garrett he found him awake and stretching out his long back with a pop. A night of being almost folded in half on the couch was bound to have repercussions. Garrett pouted a bit about Anders letting him sleep in. He felt he had wasted almost half a day by taking two extra hours of sleep. The pout disappeared when he read the note Arianni had sent. It was as he had feared for some time, Keeper Marethari had not been able to help Feynriel control his powers. Feynriel had been having terrible nightmares for weeks that would cause him to scream awake nearly every morning. The Keeper had noticed something was wrong when he did not begin yelling in the early hours of the morning. She had checked on the boy and found him unresponsive. That had been two days ago. He had been kept alive with water and milk mixed with honey, but he would not last much longer on such a diet. They needed Garrett to come to Alienage to help perform a Dalish ritual to contact Feynriel in the Fade and hopefully, wake him before it was too late. Anders offered to go with him, he was a spirit healer, maybe he could help the boy. The hopeful smile that Garrett gave him warmed him from head to toe.

“I would appreciate the help. It’s good to know you’ll watch my back.” He had failed when they were younger and the consequences had been bitter. It had nearly led to both nearly dying without setting eyes on the other ever again. Repeating such foolishness was out of the question. Garrett deserved the best of everything, he was just trying to be someone worthy of Garrett. He had been adrift for so long, it still strange to have a path to follow. The Wardens had given him direction, but Garrett had given him purpose.

“I’ll always watch your back, love,” Garrett’s smile faltered for a brief second and he wondered if it had been the wrong thing to say. He was proven wrong when the younger man embraced him hard enough to crack a rib. “Oh, this is nice, but I need to breath.” Garrett released him and gave a nervous laugh.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away.” There was a slight blush to Garrett’s face and Anders found it utterly cute. “We should probably get going, the note said Feynriel probably doesn’t have much time left.” They grabbed their staves and Garret left a short note for his mother to make sure she didn’t worry about him being absent for breakfast. When they left the manor the streets were mostly empty. Despite this, they walked close together, shoulders brushing companionably as they made their way to the Alienage.

 ~

Along the way they had stopped by the Hanged Man to pick up Varric and Merrill who had been eating a small breakfast together. Varric was uneasy about anything involving the Fade. Dwarves didn’t go to the Fade when they dreamed, but he wasn’t about to let his best friend go on a potentially thrilling adventure without his trusty dwarf sidekick. Merrill had no problem with helping, though she did ask if anyone had tried communicating with the spirits of the Fade for help. For Garrett’s sake, Anders refrained from yelling at her. When they arrived at the small house that Arianni had once shared with Feynriel they were greeted by Keeper Marethari. Merrill was surprised to see her old mentor, but did not back out of her offer to assist. Marethari had smiled kindly at her former apprentice and even asked after her well-being. Merrill had fidgeted uneasily under the Keeper’s warm eyes, bluntly answering the questions as if it was an interrogation rather than pleasantries.

Arianna thanked them all for coming, especially Garrett. The correspondence she had shared with her son the last few years had always conveyed warm feelings towards the human mage. It was good to see Feynriel’s trust had not been misplaced. Arianni had wanted to ask more about the ceremony that the Keeper intended to perform, but Marethari remained closed lipped. Instead, the Keeper sent Arianni to fetch a few things from the market before they started the ceremony. Once the door to the small house had closed, Marethari told Garrett what was expected. She had everything ready for them, she had simply wanted to protect Arianni from some of the things she needed to tell them. The ritual would allow him and his companions to enter the Fade and contact Feynriel. Performing the ritual in a familiar place with someone Feynriel trusted would improve the chances of success. With luck, the boy would realize what was going on and wake himself. If he had given over to the demons of the Fade, however, then he must be slain.

“What will happen if we kill him in the Fade?” Garrett asked, certain he would not like the answer.

“If Feynriel is slain in the Fade, he will become what your Circle calls Tranquil. It is a sad fate, but perhaps the most practical. If Feynriel becomes an abomination, many people will die.” Marethari said with sadness. She had become quite fond of her charge during the last three years. He was almost a son to her. But she was willing to sacrifice him should he become a threat to innocent people. No matter how much it would hurt her and his mother.

“I will do everything I can to save him. Feynriel is a strong kid, I know he won’t give in.” Anders had only met Feynriel briefly during his first visit to Kirkwall, but he had faith in Garrett’s judgment. Garrett glanced over at him, silently asking for his support.

“If Garrett believes in Feynriel, so do I. Though,” he quipped playfully, “can’t say I’m all the excited about Fade walking again, almost got stuck with an uppity spirit for all eternity last time. You never know what being in the Fade will bring out.” He was happy Merrill didn’t pick up the opportunity to chime in. He’d told the story in the Hanged Man once over a few beers and Merrill had latched on to the part about the spirit. She had used it as evidence that blood magic and communing with spirits wasn’t a bad thing. She had made it seem as if Anders was using the forbidden magics of his own volition. It irked him like nothing else when someone called him a blood mage or claimed he was summoning spirits. It was too reminiscent of his last escape from the Circle. If not for the fact that he was in a room full of witnesses he might have strangled her.

“Dwarves don’t belong in the Fade, Hawke,” Varric was uncharacteristically nervous, “but I’m here for you.”

“It’s ok Varric,” Merrill gave a reassuring smile to the drawf, “there’s nothing to be scared of, all three of us have been to the realm of spirits and we’re fine. Just use it as another of your stories. Maybe that last one you were writing about Hawke and…” Garrett blushed furiously and cut her off. Varric relaxed and laughed at the silly human. Garrett could go headbutt a drake without flinching, but could become a sputtering mess when it came to love and the objects of his affection. At least Blondie seemed to find it cute. Marethari coughed politely to get their attention.

“I fear that there will be demons where you are going,” Marethari handed each of them a vial of softly glowing liquid, “because of Feynriel’s abilities to shape the Fade, his spirit will draw them in like a beacon. They will try to stop you, tempt you, but you must not give in.” The four lay down on mats Arianni had set aside for them. When they were comfortable, they swallowed the contents of the vials. Seconds later they were all deeply asleep and waking up in the Fade.

~

The Fade, no matter what part one was in, had the same hazy, ephemeral feel. They couldn’t see the Black City, or any sort of land mark to let them know what part of the Fade they were in. This section looked more like the cavernous stone walls of the Gallows. Anders felt a little nauseous. He had been badly wounded in his previous Fade walk in the Black Marsh. The Baroness had hit him with a spell that caused him to experience the sensation of internal bleeding. It hadn’t affected his physical body, but he had felt his spirit energy draining. The spirit they had been assisting, Justice, had given Anders some of his own spiritual essence to save him from dying. When he had returned to the mortal realm, Anders had found his spirit healing to be more potent and his connection to the Fade stronger. But now he was experiencing an adverse effect of Justice’s help. The part of his spirit that had been most affected by the spell had to be cut away. He had been terrified, certain he would become an abomination when he woke up. Justice had promised that it would not happen since he was only giving a very small piece of self to the mage. When he had woken up, he was stunned to find himself still of his own mind. He had assumed the essence would fade over time as his spirit healed. It appeared that it was still very much a part of him. And it was attempting to take over his mortal mind.           

“Anders,” the blonde had fallen to his knees, arms wrapped tightly around his middle as he fought for control of his own mind. “What’s going on, talk to me.” Garrett was kneeling in front of him, strong hands gripping his shoulders. Garrett was worried. Anders had told him a bit about his last Fade walk and his brush with the spirit of Justice, but he hadn’t seemed concerned about any lingering effects. The blonde was shaking hard and small blue wisps of energy were coming off his skin. “Merrill, what’s wrong with him?” The elf held out a hand to touch the wisps.

“I’ve never seen anything like this, Hawke. It’s like the energy of a spirit, but that can’t be right.” Her eyes narrowed a bit, “wait, you hypocrite! You get angry at me for talking to spirits and you’re bonded to one!”

“Not helping, Merrill!” Garrett growled, “Anders, can you hear me?” The blonde nodded weakly, “tell me what to do, how to help, please!” Anders kept his eyes shut as he wrestled with the fragment of the spirit’s consciousness. It was as surprised as he was. It was fragmented and frightened, clinging to Anders’ mind for refuge. He felt sorry for the spirit, he should never have allowed Justice to give him a part of his being. It was terrified of the complex emotions and thoughts that it sensed in it’s host. Fade beings were simple and did not understand much beyond the virtue or vice they emulated.

“It’s ok,” he whispered to the other consciousness, “let go. Sleep.” Oddly, the spirit complied with his wishes and settled back into dormancy. The blue wisps vanished back into his skin and the nausea was gone. He was himself once more. He blinked and looked up into the worried faces around him. “It’s ok now, it’s gone.” Merrill was glaring at him with thin lips, annoyed at his unintentional hypocrisy. Varric and Garrett helped him back to his feet. “We’ll speak more later, I promise,” he quietly murmured into Garrett’s ear. “We should get back to the task at hand.” Garrett wasn’t happy about what had just happened, but he was willing to give Anders the chance to have his say.

They explored the corridors of the Fade, first stumbling upon a demon that had disguised itself as Feynriel’s human father. The demon tried to make Garrett appear as Feynriel’s mother, but with Garrett’s help Feynriel was able to see through the illusion and flee. The desire demon was angry with them and attempted to bargain with them. It offered Varric the chance to heal his brother’s scrambled brain. Varric had given in to the temptation. He was still angry about Batrand attempting to leave them in the Deep Roads, but he was the only family he had left. Varric had turned on them, forcing them to fight. Garrett was sad to fight his friend, but he dealt the dwarf a quick blow to the skull with the blunt end of his staff, sending him out of the Fade.

The second demon assumed the form of Keeper Marethari. Just as the first demon attempted to appeal to Fenyriel’s desire for family, the second one tried to exploit his pride. The demon proclaimed him not only a member of the clan, but the savoir of the Dalish. It attempted to disguise Garrett in the form of the First Enchanter, but failed again when Garrett’s words called to Feynriel’s sense of reason. When the demon lost it’s prey it attempted to possess Merrill. It offered her the chance to regain much of her people’s lost history and even fix the eluvian. Merrill had turned on him even faster than Varric, claiming that he was against her if he tried to stop her. Garrett again took his friend out quickly and with no pleasure.

There was just the two of them remaining in the Fade now. They returned to the entryway they had first come from. There was a demon of sloth awaiting them. It introduced itself as Torpor and asked that they leave now so that he could take the dreamer. Garrett promptly refused. Sensing it would not have any luck tempting Garret, it focused on the other mage instead.

“Surely, you will not be so quick to say no? There is so much I can offer you. Do you not wish to live as long as any mortal? Or are you determined to die so long before your time, burning away from the poison in your blood? What about the one you leave behind?” He could have sworn he felt his heart pounding. How did this thing know about his Grey Warden status? “Don’t you deserve a chance to rest with your beloved? The decades you could share with him, surely you will trade a child you barely know for the mage beside you.” There was fog drifting in his head, making it hard for him to concentrate. He was quite exhausted now that the demon mentioned it. He had been on the run for so long and then the Grey Wardens had picked him up. A nap sounded splendid. “Yes, I thought so, you should rest little mage.”

“Anders,” Garrett snapped, catching the blonde as he started to droop, “stay awake, I need you! Stay with me!” The miasma in his head began to lift. Garrett was calling him, Garrett needed him to stay awake. Releasing a burst of potent telekinetic energy towards the demon, he felt the last tendrils of demonic power flee his person. Torpor went down quickly under a barrage of mage fire. The demon screamed and crumbled into dust as the white hot flames consumed it.

When Topor was vanquished, Feynriel appeared. The young man was scared and uncertain of what exactly was going on. He knew he was dreaming, but he didn’t know for how long he had been asleep. The demons had been keeping him distracted and confused for days. He had nearly given in twice, it had only been Garrett’s influence that had saved him. He wondered if he should be slain so that he couldn’t become an abomination.

“Feynriel, you’re stronger than the demons,” Garrett encouraged, “you have the power to defeat them, you just have to trust in your own abilities.” This gave the dreamer pause, he had been so frightened of his dreams, he hadn’t considered that his ability to shape the Fade could stop the dark creatures. Feynriel called out his power and the prison faded away. It was replaced with a forest. It was warm and airy and seemed filled with bird songs. It was a nice change from the cold, sterile hall they had been in earlier. “See? You are capable of using your powers to vanquish the demons, you just need to trust yourself.”

“I don’t know, but I do trust you Hawke. You’ve always been kind to me.”

“We mages have to look out for one another.” Garrett beamed at the boy, “perhaps it is time for you to seek instruction elsewhere. Maybe Tevinter? The mages there aren’t forced to live in the Circle and they might have people who can teach you how to control your power.”

“If you think it’s best, I’ll try it. Thank you for everything,” Garrett hugged the boy tightly, knowing this might be the last time he would see him, “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” Garrett was slow to release the boy, playfully ruffling his hair before he let him go, “if you ever need me, just remember I’m just a short message away.” The boy stepped away and conjured a portal. He gave the two men a smile before stepping through. Anders and Garrett waved to him as the portal vanished, leaving them alone in the Fade. Garrett turned to face him, his eyes questioning and uncertain.

“Garrett, I…” the Fade blurred and blackened before he could say anything. When Anders returned to consciousness, he found that he and Garrett were lying alone in the room, Merrill and Varric had vacated their mats. He could hear the dwarf talking to the Keeper. From what he could tell, Merrill had taken off after she had awoken form the Fade. She had been ashamed of her actions and wanted to be alone for a while. The two mages had been lying side by side, their hands somehow becoming entwined as they slumbered. Anders reluctantly released Garrett’s work calloused hand and sat back against the wall to wait for the other man to awaken.

When Garret woke up, Anders was watching him with anxious eyes. The demon had told Garrett about the death sentence flowing in his veins. Garrett had promptly vanquished the demon, but that was no indication if he believed the demon or not. If he believed what the demon had told him, Maker, what would he say? Sorry I love you but I’m going to be dead in a few decades and you’ll probably outlive me another thirty years? Andraste’s flaming knickers, what a mess.

~

“Anders?” Garrett whispered, sitting up groggily, “are you alright?”

“I’ve been better” Anders sighed, “but I’ve also been worse. Fade walking is not something I’m overly fond since the Black Marsh. Makes my head hurt.” The spirit essence inside him was quiet. He couldn’t sense anything from it. It would likely stay dormant until he went into the Fade again. Hopefully there would be plenty of time between then and now. He wasn’t in the mood to fight for his sanity again so soon.  He groaned as he felt a throbbing in his temples. The lyrium they had all consumed was slowly exiting their system. Varric had probably felt nothing. Probably because of dwarves natural immunity towards magic. The rest of them were feeling a headache to rival the worst hangover ever.

“Is it true?” Garrett shifted so that they were sitting side by side.

“Which thing?” Anders asked cautiously, “the demon said a lot of things.”

“Any of it? All of it?” Anders found himself reverting to his old habit of licking his lips when he was nervous. “Please, tell me.”

“Yes, all of it.” He couldn’t look Garrett in the eyes, he had hurt him again without meaning to, “the taint we take in to become Grey Wardens is a death sentence. It takes about twenty five years, but that’s the reason you never see any old Wardens. Their bodies give out long before their first grey hair.” He had long accepted this particular aspect of a Warden’s life. He shouldn’t have lived much longer anyway, the Templars had been planning on executing him before the Commander had conscripted him. At first he thought Aedan had saved him, but later learned it was just prolonging the same thing. Death by taint instead of death by Templar. He had been so angry at first, feeling that his trust had been betrayed yet again. But Aedan had given him time and space and patience to come to terms with what he was. He had never pushed Anders to accept what he was, but had always kept that door open for him. He would be forever grateful to the Commander for that. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been open with Garrett in the beginning and now it was coming back to bite his arse.

“But there has to be cure! Surely, there’s something you or another healer could do.” He looked up from his lap when he heard the pleading tone in Garrett’s voice. There young man’s expressive eyes were misty and threatening to tear up. “I don’t want you to die.”

“I’m not going to right now, I’ve got another twenty years, maybe a few more.” He tried to smile, “I think I’d rather die a free man in twenty years than live a prisoner for the next hundred.”

“Then I’m not going to waste the time we have left,” Garrett surged forward and kissed him. It was a hard kiss that would leave his lips swollen later, but it was what he needed right now. Garrett was half expecting the blonde to push him away. To his delight, a hand came up to cup the back of his neck, fingers burying themselves in soft dark hair, tugging just ever so right. The next kiss was softer, sweeter, still just the chaste press of lips. He wanted more, he wanted everything. But he stopped, this was not the place for such things. Instead, he rested his forehead against Anders’ and placed a hand on the back of the blonde’s head, taking the opportunity to stroke the golden red hair. It wasn’t silky soft, but it was real and he could touch it without fearing repercussion. It was better than any dream. “Maker’s breath, I don’t care if this is fleeting. I just know I can’t go on without this. Without you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, never have. I’m going to die and break your heart again. You’ll regret this.” Garrett sat back, but held onto his hand. “You should have a normal life, with normal people.” Garrett just rolled his eyes. Hadn’t Anders met his friends? What had he called them, his merry band of misfits? Normalcy and Garrett Hawke had long been estranged.

“It might have escaped your notice, but I’m an apostate, I couldn’t do normal even if I wanted. Besides,” he stood up, taking Anders with him, “who’s to say you won’t outlive me? With my luck, I’ll probably get eaten by a dragon or cut in half by a pissed of Qunari.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Anders said, “I’ll drag you back kicking and screaming from the side of the Maker himself if I have to. You’re not allowed to die before me.” Garrett pressed close and wrapped his arms around the taller man’s neck.

“Is that so?” He playfully remarked, “I’m going to hold you to that promise.” With ease, Anders looped his arms around the other man’s waist. He tilted his head down to press a soft, chaste kiss to Garrett’s lips. He refrained from doing anything more. They still needed to talk about what had happened in the Fade. He doubted the spirit had much influence over his waking self, but he didn’t want to lie anymore. If they were to be together, he had to be honest with Garrett about everything. He was pulled from his thoughts by Garrett stroking the back of his neck. He sighed and pressed his nose against Garrett’s neck, inhaling the slight hint of masculine heat and ozone that permeated his skin. He had once told Aedan that pies were the smell of freedom. It was only because he wasn’t inhaling the scent of his liebling. They could have stayed like that forever, both truly happy. A cough from behind them startled them both out of the moment.

“Varric!” Garrett all but snarled. Anders covered his laugh at the unhappy expression on his love’s face.

“Sorry to spoil the moment, but Keeper Marethari wants to talk.” The dwarf did not look sorry at all. He was probably archiving the moment for one of the many stories he would later tell the adoring public. He’d probably toss in flowery declarations of love and someone being carried over the threshold to pretty up the story. It didn’t matter to Garrett, his truth was just fine. Anders loved him and he loved Anders. That was enough. The flowers and candles were just trimmings on the cake. Garrett straightened out his clothes before going to have a short talk with Marethari about Feynriel’s decision to find a tutor in Tevinter. “Everything alright, Blondie? You’re not going to start glowing again are you?

 **“** Maker, I hope not. That was…unpleasant. Merrill is never going to let me live it down, is she?” The dwarf shook his head.

“Nope, when it comes to magic and weird spirit crap Daisy holds on like a vice.” This elicited a groan from the mage. “At least it all worked out, even if it involves Tevinter. Hawke loves that kid like a brother.” Anders could agree with that. It would have been terrible for Garrett to kill Feynriel after his breakdown the night before. Garrett was strong, but all people have a breaking point. Today, he had helped Garrett avoid his.

Varric made a comment about the Garrett being worse than a love struck Orlesian maiden when it came to Anders and the mage smiled at the ridiculous mental image. Anders was still smiling a slightly goofy grin when Garrett finished talking with Marethari. Garrett raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question him. Varric apologized for his actions in the Fade, but Garrett let it slide. Demons were tricky and knew how to best prey on your mind. It took years of disciplined training to see through their lies. It would take more than a slip up to ruin the relationship between them.

The three of them went back to the Hanged Man for some celebratory drinks. As they listened to Varric tell another of the outlandish stories he was planning on writing the two found themselves holding hands, fingers loosely laced together. At one point, Anders brought Garrett’s hand to his lips and placed a kiss to his knuckles. The other mage had blushed fiercely, but smiled. There was sure to be trials and tribulations ahead, whether from the taint in Anders blood or a dissolution of the fragile peace with the Qunari. No one could predict the future, so the moment might as well be enjoyed until the next cataclysm struck.  


	19. In Darkest Night, does shine the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings for this chapter, and a huge thanks to all my subscribers, reviewers, and readers. I attempted to make certain parts of this chapter as accurate as possible in terms of anatomy, so bear with me if I get anything wrong. Also, any Game of Thrones fans out there? Check out the last part.

_The first of the Maker's children watched across the Veil_  
_And grew jealous of the life_  
_They could not feel, could not touch._  
_In blackest envy were the demons born._

_-Canticle of Erudition 2:1_

As it turned out, saying that one accepted the potential death of one’s other half was a lot easier than actually following through. Garrett had managed to put on a smile for Anders, but it faltered when the blonde wasn’t looking. It was worst when they were in bed together and Anders had drifted off to sleep as Garrett remained awake listening to the blonde’s deep breathing. While Anders had attempted to sooth his fears about the Grey Wardens’ fate, it still nagged him. An annoying, clawing sensation at the back of his mind that refused to be locked away.

“Liebe,” Garrett was a bit startled to hear Anders whispering against the back of his head. He had thought the mage was still sleeping, even had heard him lightly snoring just seconds before. Anders’ tightened his hold on Garrett’s waist and kissed his shoulder. “You’re still awake?”

“Can’t sleep.” Garrett sighed and pressed his cheek further into the pillow as he attempted to calm his agitated nerves. “Did I wake you?”

“No.” Garrett rolled to his other side to face Anders. They were close enough to feel their breath mingling. “What’s going on liebe? What’s bothering you?” Anders brushed his finger against Garrett’s cheek. Garrett sighed and pushed into the soft touch.

“I’m afraid.” He shut his eyes, “I stop thinking about what that demon said when we were in the Fade. And I hate giving that thing power.” Anders sighed at the confession. He had been wondering when Garrett would finally admit to being troubled by the Grey Warden fate. The younger mage could put on quite the poker face, but he couldn’t hide the stiffness when he was wrapped tight in Anders’ arms each night. A tightness gripped Anders’ heart as one of his greatest fears was confirmed. Despite his efforts to prevent it, he had caused Garrett pain again.

“Love, I’m so sorry.” He cradled the back of Garrett’s head and gently ran his fingers through thick black hair tangled by sleep. “If I could fix it…I would. The Commander once had a mage named Avernis researching the Joining, but he died when the Vigil was attacked.” To make it even worse what notes he had taken were all destroyed in a fire. Garrett’s blue eyes opened, a sheen of moisture threatening to escape.

“Is there nothing we can do?” Garrett asked, “surely there is someone out there who knows something. The Wardens were founded a thousand years ago, someone had to consider the option.” He couldn’t continue as his voice caught in his throat. Anders wrapped his arms tight around Garrett as the dark haired mage tucked his head against his chest. Garrett pressed his cheek to Anders’ chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart.    

“I wish I could give you the next forty or fifty years,” he pressed his nose into Garrett’s dark hair. He kissed the slightly coarse locks, “the time I lost, I can’t get back. But what time I have left, it’s yours.” Garrett let out a deep sigh, realizing just how exhausted he was. The light scratching sensation of Anders’ fingers on his scalp was lulling him to sleep. A part of him wanted to stay awake and continue talking, but his mind was being tugged down to the sweet oblivion of sleep. With a final deep sigh he slipped into the dream realm.  

A small touch of spirit energy had been all Garrett needed. He might have felt a bit guilty about using his magic on an unknowing Garrett, but the soft look on his face was enough to convince him otherwise. Once sure the younger man was out cold, Anders moved to lie partially on his back and shifted Garrett’s head so it resting on his chest. He brushed the hair from Garrett’s forehead and closed his eyes. He could now see why relationships outside the Grey Wardens were not encouraged. Few people found a limited lifespan an attractive quality.

He had done the one thing he had hoped to never do again. Garrett was hurting because of him. They had finally begun to make a life together and the demon had shattered any illusions of normalcy. What they had was not broken by the revelation, but had acquired a more fragile feel. Apostates and Grey Wardens had one thing in common. They both lived on borrowed time. In the end, they all met their Maker. Whether forgotten in the darkest depths of the Deep Roads or publically displayed under the Templar’s blade, all paths had the same destination. Until then, being in love made the journey just a bit less lonely.

**~**

**(a few weeks later)**

The evening had started off right with both of them taking the time to bathe and clean up a bit after returning to the estate from a three day trip outside the city walls tracking a small group of darkspawn on the Wounded Coast. One of the local merchants had lost one of his caravan to the vermin and had decided to hire Hawke to see if there was any recoverable cargo. There was nothing left by the time Hawke, Anders, and Aveline had made their way to the ambush site. The darkspawn had eaten everything and burned the wagons. Knowing that one of the genlocks was gnawing on a human finger was all Hawke needed to feel instant hate for the monsters. A few had tried to hide in the shadows, but Anders’ Grey Warden abilities had made them unable to pull the same stunt that had cost the caravan their lives. Aveline had been grudgingly happy to admit that Anders had proved himself useful. Even if he was still annoying.

They had made plans to have dinner at one of the nicer restaurants in Hightown. Varric had told Garrett about the delicious pear and cheese tarts. The hungry look in his eyes was all Anders needed to suggest they pay a visit. First, a hot bath was required. The ichor that had drenched their skins had taken quite a bit of scrubbing to wash off. Anders covered up the last bits of the lingering scent with a dash of the cedar oil Garrett favored. When the younger mage had kissed him before they set out for the evening, he had found the sweetness of the cedar oil blended the natural scent of skin in heady mixture that made his mouth water. The initially chaste kiss gave way as the tip of Garrett’s tongue caressed Anders’ bottom lip. The blonde’s lips parted to allow the other to explore.  His first sensation was the hint of mint Anders was chewing earlier. His tongue tingled pleasantly from the herb. He can feel the other man smiling as their lips lock. Their tongues slid together in a playful, light dance. Garrett does not attempt to kiss too deeply or roughly, he instead keeps is soft and sweet, bringing his hands up to cup Anders’ smooth shaved cheeks. Garrett found himself wishing there was that slight bit of stubble that always graced Anders’ jaw no matter the time of day. Still, the other mage had groomed himself as a nice gesture, so he let it go and enjoyed the kiss. They continued the kiss for several minutes, taking the time to taste each other. It was Anders who pulled away first after giving one last little nibble to Garrett’s kiss swollen lower lip.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Anders laughed when he saw Garrett’s dilated pupils. Andraste’s frilly knickers, it made him hungry seeing the headstrong force mage looking so turned on. It was almost enough to make him reconsider their evening plans. Everything in him ached for his liebling. Surely, they could always just dine on some of Orana’s leftover stew afterwards.

“Me?” Garrett’s voice was a bit ragged, “I think it will be the other way around.” He wrapped his arms around the blonde’s waist to pull him close. His breeches did little to conceal his interest as he pressed it hard against the other man’s hip. “Are you certain you want to go out? We could stay in, perhaps enjoy a private dessert?” Yes, yes, now he is very much certain Garrett will kill him. Kill him by blood deprivation to the brain.

“You, serah, are more tempting than any desire demon,” he purred, “and here I thought you liked going slow.” He nipped at the younger man’s ear lobe in retaliation, causing Garrett to shudder against him. “Or was I wrong?”

“Slow, I’ve waited more than a decade for you, my sweetheart.” Garrett nuzzled the taller man’s neck with his trimmed beard, “I just want you.” Alright, Anders thought, I surrender.

“Screw it,” Garrett laughed at his poor pun, “you are _so_ going to get it.”

“Oh no, anything but that.” Before they could retire to Garrett’s room for the night however, there was a loud banging at the estate’s front door. They attempted to ignore it, certain that it could wait until the morning, but the banging only grew more insistent. With a frustrated groan, Garrett released him and went to answer the door. “Tell them to sod off,” Garrett returned with the Prince of Starkhaven hot on his heels.

“Maker’s breath, Sebastian, you really have the worst timing.” The Chantry brother colored when he realized he had interrupted their evening. The tips of his ears turned red and he sputtered out an apology. Anders snickered under his breath, how could a man who walked around with Andraste’s face on his codpiece be bothered at all by anything involving intimacy. Even more so if half of the stories he had heard about the prince’s wild days were true.

“My apologies Hawke, but it simply could not wait. I finally tracked down who hired the Flint company that slaughtered my family.” Sebastian had gained some measure of vengeance when Garrett had killed the mercenaries several years ago. After the battle and rummaging a bit through the campsite, Garrett had found the amulet Sebastian’s sister had worn and returned it to him as proof that the deed was done. There was a mix of grief and joy in the prince’s eyes when he opened the amulet to find the inscription ‘Always your loving brother, Seb’ still readable. The Chantry brother had paid him handsomely and the resulting gold had funded Batrand’s Deep Road expedition. Garrett had felt sorry for Sebastian and promised that he would assist him with getting justice when the time came. He was still willing to help. But he didn’t see why it couldn’t wait until after he and Anders had gone ten toes to the Maker.

“So you finally figured out who hired them? Can it wait until morning?” Anders felt the same. Surely the prince’s vendetta could wait another night.

“No!” Sebastian protested, “by then they may have left Kirkwall and there will never be another chance. Please, Hawke, you promised me we would do this together.” Garrett growled deep in his throat, but that did not deter Sebastian. “You’ve proven yourself an honorable man, I know you will do what is just.” Damn Sebastian, just damn the bastard. He had managed to poke at just the right place. He knew Garrett could not turn down someone appealing to his hero complex.

“Alright, alright, for Maker’s sake, alright. Just give me a moment.” This satisfied Sebastian, who gave them the name and address of the family who had betrayed him. The Harimanns were a wealthy family from Starkhaven that had long been allied with the Vaels. The revelation of their treachery must have shocked the young prince. He had always known them to be close friends of his parents. He had even had a romantic interest in their daughter Flora at one point. The memories turned bitter and left an acrid taste in Sebastian’s mouth as he considered the brutality of his family’s slaughter. He would make them all pay for what they had done. He would go and gather Fenris from his crumbling mansion to give the two mages time to prepare.

“You know, for such a handsome fellow, he is rather uptight,” Anders mentioned as he grabbed his staff and a few small vials of lyrium.

“He took a vow of chastity when he entered the Chantry, that’s probably it.” Garrett said, “it’s starting to make him a bit unbearable.”

“We could always get Isabela to help him ‘relieve stress’,” Garrett shook his head.

“Tried that already, he ended up attempting to read her the entire Chant of Light. I think trying again is just cruel and unusual punishment for Isabela.” Isabela had been gob smacked when Sebastian had turned her down, repeatedly. She had wondered if he had agreed to voluntary neutering when he had joined the Chantry. She couldn’t think of any other explanation as to why he would say no to her.

“You’re right love, it would horrible of us to torture the pirate. Well, not if there is any leather cuffs or riding crops involved. She did mention she likes tying people up. Maybe the prince would agree to that, they could make a game out of it! The helpless missionary and the lusty pirate queen.” It was now Garrett’s turn to color. The younger mage’s experiences had been pretty mundane, just the basics of two people seeking pleasure in each other. He hadn’t ever dared to settle down into a long term relationship with the possibility of Templars dragging him so prominent in his mind. But with the protection his noble family and money gave him, he could finally attempt to commit himself fully to another. This meant a chance to explore what two people could do beyond a one night stand. He just hoped there weren’t any such props so early on.

“Thanks, I wanted to spend the evening imaging Isabela tying someone up.”

“You can always imagine me tying you up.” Garrett gripped his staff hard, now that was something he didn’t mind picturing. And maybe attempting once they had resolved Sebastian’s family matter. “Should I tell you about the extra bit of rope I always keep just in case?”

“I have a better idea,” Garrett pulled the blonde down for one last searing kiss before they went out the door, “you can show me when we get home.”

~

The mages had sensed something strange the moment Sebastian picked the lock on the front door. It was an oppressive almost miasmic feel to the air. If he concentrated too hard on it, Garett became dizzy and had to take a moment to catch his breath. When he saw Anders doing the same, his suspicions were confirmed.

“You sense it as well?” Anders nodded and wiped a patch of glistening sweat from his brow.

“Sense what? I don’t feel anything.” Sebastian asked, drawing out his bow in anticipation of a fight. Fenris’s tattoos glowed ominiously. The elf was not mage, but the markings in his skin did make him more aware of disruptions in the Veil than other non-mages. He couldn’t quite sense what Anders and Garrett felt, but he knew something was off.

“There’s been a tear in the Veil,” Anders told the prince, “Garrett and I can feel it because of our connection to the Fade.” Sebastian paled. He was always uncomfortable around magic and spirits. He had seen what Garrett was capable of and that had been more than enough to convince him magic was dangerous. Any man could pick up a sword and slay another, but mages could control the very air a person breathed or the water in their blood. There were those among the mages who summoned demons and abominations to slaughter entire cities. How could you hope to win against an army of people who could reshape the battlefield itself? The thought that the Harrimans might have allied themselves with such people was unsettling.  

“We should be careful then. When the Veil gets thin or torn, spirits can cross over.” Garrett unhooked his staff and gave it a quick twirl, “are any of the Harimanns mages?”

“I didn’t think so,” Sebastian considered, “but they’ve lied about so many things, I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them is.” They found the deserted entryway to be filled with the same oppressive atmosphere. They ventured further into the house and found Bret Harriman in the dining room attempting to melt a large pile of gold coins. He had tied up an elven servant and was getting ready to cover her in the molten hot liquid. Sebastian managed to distract the madman with an arrow that grazed the tip of his ear. It didn’t do more than scratch him, but it was enough to make him step away from the helpless girl. Fenris cut the ropes binding her hands and feet as he ordered her to run to safety. When the girl was gone Bret Harimann promptly forgot her and instead started talk about covering himself in liquid gold. Garrett struck him on the back of his head with the blunted end of his staff to prevent self-harm. For additional protection, they tied him to one of the remaining chairs.

“Merciful Andraste, he’s gone mad.” Sebastian breathed, “what’s happened to him?”

“I can attempt to calm him, but it may do nothing if he has truly lost his mind.” Anders called on his spirit healing powers, channeling the essence of the Fade through his being. His entire body briefly glowed blue before receding back into his skin. He raised his right hand over the unconscious man’s forehead and a gentle cascade of light landed on Harimann’s brow. Bret Harimman’s brow crinkled and his eyes opened when Anders finished.

“Wha..Where am I?” His eyes were clear and contained none of the manic light that had burned in them just minutes before, “wait, is that you Sebastian?” He smiled, “thank the Maker, you’re alive!”

“No thanks to your family,” Sebastian growled and pulled out a knife, pressing it to the bound man’s throat, “you think I do not know of your family’s betrayal? You think me some soft headed simpleton like Goran?”

“What? No! I mean, what betrayal, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” This only earned him a small nick to his throat, “please,” he implored the others, “I didn’t do anything, I don’t know anything. The last thing I remember is mother hosting a party with the Du Lancet family and then I wake up tied to a chair. I don’t even know what’s going on now!”

“His mind is his own once more,” Anders mused, “he must have been under the influence of a demon before. He’s probably telling the truth.”

“It’s probably a demon of desire or pride then,” Garrett agreed, “this is bad. Sebastian, he may be innocent. Doesn’t the Chantry declare all men innocent until proven otherwise?” Sebastian swallowed hard. Yes, the Chantry taught that only the Maker knew what lay in the depths of mens’ hearts and therefore mortals must see each other as innocent until a trial based on evidence and judgment of peers proved otherwise. He would stay his blade, for now.

“I will not kill him now then, but should I find proof of treachery,” he made a slicing gesture across his throat. Bret Harimann whimpered, but did not protest. He probably didn’t want to see what was going on in the rest of the house. His eyes had already started to glaze back over once Sebastian had sheathed his knife. The spirit healing Anders had performed only temporarily counteracted whatever was going on. They made sure that the room was secure before leaving to explore the rest of the house. In one of the bedrooms they found Lord Ruxton Harimann and an elven prostitute. He didn’t even notice the four of them as he pushed the girl down onto her knees and opened his trousers. They quickly shut the door so that they did not have to witness the world’s oldest profession at work. “But, I’ve known Lord Ruxton for years. He’s a prude!”

“Apparently not anymore,” Anders said, “he seems to have a developed a voyeur kink since you last met.” Sebastian rolled his eyes.

“Tell me, Anders, are all Wardens this annoying or just you?”

“Just the unreasonably pretty ones.” Garrett nudged him with an elbow to the ribs, “what, it’s true. If you ever had the chance to meet Velanna you’d agree with me.”

“We should focus on the task at hand,” Garrett interrupted before Anders and Sebastian could get into another round of tearing at each other’s throats. Maker, he was glad he didn’t normally spend all that much time with Sebastian. He was funny sometimes, with his stories about his previous life, but for the most part a self-righteous prick. It meant he often clashed horribly with the glib, care-free, Templar hating attitude Anders displayed for the world. “Something strange is going on and I don’t like it. Makes my teeth itch.”

“Perhaps there is blood magic involved,” Fenris offered, his sword was still clutched tightly in his hand as he expected an ambush at any given second, “I have felt something like this before when I served Danarius. He would sometimes practice mind control on a slave before attempting it on a political enemy.”

“You could be right, their minds are clearly not their own.” Garrett scratched his beard as he considered the idea that they were dealing with a powerful maleficar. Mind control was no easy task, even on those with weak mentalities. It required years of practice and often the aid of a malevolent spirit. “What I would give for a copy of the litany of Adralla right now. We should be careful, if this indeed a maleficar, they could end up turning us against one another. Anders and I might be able to resist because of our connection to the Fade, but you two I’m not so sure about.”

“The Chantry teaches meditations that are meant to provide a mental fortress against blood magic,” Sebastian said, “I suppose this will be an occasion to test them. I have faith the Maker will protect us.” Garrett just nodded. He wasn’t the biggest fan of the Maker or his Bride. How could he when the Chantry taught that he was an abomination in their eyes. But he wasn’t about to turn away any form of divine aid.

The rest of the house was empty and covered in a fine layer of dust. The windows in all the rooms had been covered up by the drapes, blocking out any curious eyes. The kitchen area was the worst. The pantry and cellar had been left open allowing the food to rot and become infested with wiggly white maggots and blowflies. It must have been some time since anyone had been of sound enough mind to clean up that place. How many days had passed since anyone had actually visited the house, days, weeks, months? Bret Harimann’s confusion indicated that whatever had come upon the family had been sudden and unexpected. It must also have been subtle for their guests not to notice their neighbors’ sudden ensorcellement. They descended from the kitchen into the wine cellar. There they found the Harimann’s eldest child, Flora. She was stumbling about drunk stinking of sweat and alcohol. She leaned back against one of the many barrels that lined the wall and took a deep swig from a bottle she was holding. Sebastian felt sorry for her as he saw the sad state of her oily hair and dirty dress. He had known her since she was child and he had always known her to be a proper noble’s daughter. Sebastian tried to get to her sit down and sleep off the copious amount of wine, but she struggled out of his arms and screamed when he tried to remove the bottle from her grasp. They left her there, hoping they would stop whatever was controlling her before she could harm herself.

The cellar led down into a passage of old Tevinter design. As Garrett had discovered in the last few years, many of the homes in Hightown were built on top of ruins. The city had existed for more than seven hundred years of continuous habitation. As older generations faded to new ones, their buildings were often covered up in years of debris that would eventually bury them completely. His own home had been built on top of what had once been a holding area for slaves. He had closed it off since then, having no desire to venture into Darktown.

They had not gone more than a dozen steps in when they were set upon by half a dozen shades. The shades tried to tear with them with their claws and fly out of range when Fenris slashed at them with his sword. Sebastian and the mages had more ease taking them down with ranged attacks of arrows and fire. Garrett used a small flick of his staff to light Sebastian’s arrows as they cut through air. The prince aimed for their glowing eye sockets. When the arrows hit their target the creatures burst in flames and crumbled to nothing.

“Shades, they’ve summoned demons,” as the shades fell a new tear in the Veil allowed a Revenant to arise. The massive figure was still wearing armor from the time of the ancient Imperium. It swung a huge broadsword that swirled like a serrated whirlwind. It threw all of them off their feet and scrambling to get out of it’s reach. As the blade hit the ground a host of undead skeletons rose up to join their leader. The skeletons were in a far more desiccated condition than the revenant with rusted bits of armor that dangled from hollowed out ribcages and stick like arms. The skeletons were not difficult to take down, but they acted as cannon fodder for the Revenant, weakening and distracting the embattled living foes. Fenris cut a line threw the skeletons, decapitating two and three at a time with his long sword. Garrett followed him, incinerating the undead that tried to attack the elf’s flanks. Sebastian and Ander stayed back to offer ranged attacks on the skeletons the other two couldn’t reach.

At last they reached the Revenant. It swung at the elf and the mage, but Fenris managed to raise his blade in time to parry. The Revenant was far stronger and knocked the elf to the ground. It raised it’s blade to gore Fenris through the belly, but the elf rolled away just before the tip hit him. Garrett thrust the bladed end of his staff into the exposed area just below the thing’s helmet. It stopped and shook itself free of the blade, almost snapping the staff in half. It used a burst of telekinesis to drag Garrett forward into it’s grasp. It held the mage by the throat and squeezed. Garrett had dropped his staff when the Revenant had jerked him off his feet. With no staff He couldn’t channel the power without hurting himself. He scratched desperately at the bony claw cutting off his air and kicked outwards helplessly. The creature increased pressure on his larynx, nearly crushing the cartilage and nearby hyoid. He could hear the blood roaring in his ears as his vision began to tunnel. He attempted to gasp for air as he pawed at the hand, but nothing could enter his burning lungs. He thought he could hear someone screaming his name. Anders? He blacked out a few seconds later.

“No!” Anders watched in horror as Garret stopped kicking and went limp in the thing’s hand. It tossed him aside like a broken doll. Garrett’s body hit the wall with a sickening thud. He rushed away from Sebastian to Garrett’s side, not caring if it put him in the path of the Revenant’s power. He kneeled down and pulled the dark head into his lap. Garrett’s lips were tinged blue from hypoxia and he couldn’t feel a pulse as he pressed his fingers to the carotid artery. “No,” he hissed, “don’t you dare! Don’t be dead, please.”

Fenris and Sebastian finished off the Revanant, with the elf slicing off it’s helmeted head as Sebastian shot an arrow into it’s neck and right elbow to disable it. Anders opened Garrett’s mouth and pinched his nose to deliver two quick breathes. He then placed both hands on the center of Garrett’s chest, over the sternum, and started pressing hard. He briefly worried about cracking ribs, but decided he would concentrate on saving the other man’s life first. He pumped the heart manually, getting the oxygenated blood to flow through the unconscious man’s veins. After twenty presses he gave two more breathes. Seeing it wasn’t working, he opted for a more drastic method to get Garrett’s heart started again. He placed one hand over under Garrett’s left pectoral and the other behind his right shoulder. He channeled a small pulse of electricity through his fingers, circulating between his hands. He needed to apply a low voltage to restart the heart and not cause permanent damage to the cardiac muscle. Garrett shuddered in his arms and took a quick breath.

“Am I dead?” Garrett attempted to sit up, but Ander kept him down with a firm hand. He could feel the heart beating once more under his hand. It briefly raced like a hummingbird’s before slowing back down to normal.

“Nearly. I think I may have to sew Irving a sweater for teaching us about electricity in the body.” A bright purple one with kittens, Irving would find the humor in it even if Knight Commander Greagoir did not. “See,” he pressed a kiss to Garrett’s sweat drenched brow, “I promised I’d drag you back.”

“Except I’m not kicking and screaming, but my chest hurts. Kiss it better?” Anders playfully swatted him, with a gentle chide of ‘brat’. “Your bedside manner needs work. And a bed.” 

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Anders pulled Garrett back to his feet. Garrett rolled his shoulders and gingerly touched his aching chest.

“Hawke,” Fenris was a glad to see that his friend was still alive. He wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself if Garrett had gotten killed because he didn’t properly protect him. “Are you alright?”

“I’ve been better, but I’m alive. We should hurry up and finish this. The tear could let more of those things in if we don’t close it.” They regrouped and headed deeper into the ruins. There were a few more shades and skeletons awaiting them as they went further in, but no more Revenants.

At last they came to the center of the ruins. There was an altar that had been set up long ago by an ancient magister. It was a simple block of marble with some small etchings and runes that was still covered in dark stains. Likely blood from living sacrifices that had soaked the stone permanently. There were new stains that had yet to turn the dingy brown of old blood. The shining red contrasted sharply against the white of the stone, almost glowing in the low light of the candles surrounding the altar. Up close, Garrett could taste the pungent, salty tang of blood lingering in the air. He lifted his staff to shatter the altar, but was tossed backwards with a sudden bit of force to the abdomen. He fell and rolled backwards.

“It appears that unwelcome guests have made their way into my sanctuary. How rude.” A middle aged woman with severe features and tightly bound dark hair scowled at them. “Well,” she smiled a predatory grin, “if it isn’t Meghan’s youngest. I should have known you would turn up eventually, boy.”

“Johane Harimann,” Sebastian hissed, “you’re the one who had my family murdered? Why? You were my mother’s closest friend. She loved you like a sister.”

“Your family did not deserve the power. They were a bunch of upstarts who weren’t even from Starkhaven. My family should have held the throne, not yours.” The woman sneered at Sebastian, her long held resentment finally allowed to bubble to the surface. Johane took a small knife from a fold in her robes and slashed her hand, “come to me my friend, I need your help!” Anders and Garrett took an instinctive step back. Lady Harimann was the blood mage. She was the one who had been summoning the demons. As the drops of blood hit the ground, a cloud of a purple fog arose and a demon appeared. It was a desire demon. Like many others of its kind it had the humanoid shape of an attractive female with the hourglass figure and the barely concealed genitals.

“Foul creature, you’re the one to blame for everything. You’re the one that made her betray my family.” The demon just laughed at Sebastian,

“I could create such desire if I wished, but it is far easier to nurture those which already exist.” The demon glanced around at them, attempting to read their thoughts and desires, “so much desire in this one, for vengeance, for acceptance, for power. Perhaps we can strike a bargain?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Garrett snapped at the demon, “why would Sebastian work with the thing that led to the murder of his family?”

“Murder is such an ugly word. I prefer ‘removed the only obstacle between her and her dreams.’” Allure turned its gaze to him, “my, my, aren’t you an interesting little thing. The things you could accomplish with my aid. So full of raw potential, you burn brighter than any beacon. You are the one who will cast the ripples. I see now what the Witch saw in you.” Anders sucked in a breath. He remembered what Garrett had told him about his encounter with the Witch of the Wilds. The same witch that had saved the Hero of Ferelden. While not explicitly stated, Flemeth had saved Garrett because he was destined to do something great. It seems that this vision of hers was not unknown in the Fade. Just how many things had their eyes on Garret because of it?

“Step away whore.” Fenris lifted his sword to block the demon from getting any closer to them.

“Is that a no?” Garrett remained silent, “a pity then. I shall have to destroy you.” The demon summoned more wraiths to fight at her and Lady Harimann’s side. For a blood mage, Lady Harimann was not all that powerful. She had never received any formal training, so her technique was sloppy. Allure gave her power, but not skill. She was not able to throw up a shield in time to block Sebastian’s arrows. She fell quickly from a single arrow to the center of her forehead. The demon was weakened after losing its ally and foodsource. Garrett froze the demon solid as Fenris shattered her with a blow from his hilt. Without her the shades faded to nothing.

To close the tear the altar was broken and purified with cleansing spirit magic. With the Veil now secure, they were able to leave the ruins and return to the main house. As they made their way into the wine cellar, they were greeted by a mostly sober Flora. She was rubbing her eyes in confusion when they found her. Like her brother, the last thing she remembered was a small dinner party. She was amazed and ashamed of what her mother had done to Sebastian’s family and her own. They had been nothing more than fuel for her mother’s blind hatred. She begged Sebastian for his forgiveness, imploring him to recall the happy times they had shared as children.

“Yes, we were the best of friends.” Sebastian gave a bittersweet smile at the joyful memories of playing with Flora in his mother’s gardens. There had even been a time he had thought himself in love with her. She had been his first kiss, how could he not imagine spending forever with her after that. “I believe you and hope your family can recover from this.”

“I’m strong, Sebastian. I will redeem my family if it takes the rest of my life.” Flora straightened, “and know that should you try to take your family’s throne, you will have my support. Now, I must go find Bret and Father. Be safe my dear friend.” They didn’t stick around to see what condition the other Harimanns were in. It was probably for the best, they hadn’t been in the best state of minds until a few minutes ago. They left the healing house and entered the cool night air. Sebastian bade them all farewell and left to go think on what had happened. He wasn’t sure what to make of magic and mages after seeing what it had done to his mother’s friend. His faith in Hawke had not waivered, but his trust in mages in general was a bit less steady than it had been before. Perhaps Knight Commander Meredith was not wrong in being so cautious. Any person with access to magic was in danger of becoming a maleficar.

Garrett was a bit put off by the disparaging remarks. Had he not proven himself as a mage to Sebastian already? He had given up his evening with Anders and nearly his life for the princeling. He kept his comments to himself though. There was never anything to be gained from arguing with a Chantry fanatic. Fenris walked with the two mages a bit before pulling out a bottle he had snatched from the Harriman’s wine cellar. 

“You stole a bottle of wine?” Garrett laughed, “doesn’t your manor have a whole cellar for you to choose from.”

“Not this one. This is Valyrian Summer Wine, the Paragon of all wines.” Fenris used one of the sharp tips on his gauntlets to uncork the bottle. He took a small sip and handed it Garrett. “Take just a little, there isn’t many bottles left in this world.”

“I’ve never even heard of it.” Hawke tasted a few drops. It was an explosion of flavor. It wasn’t overly sweet or bitter like many wines. It didn’t taste like either white or red, perhaps a mix of the two. He could taste cedar, black currant, a hint of rose. As he swallowed something wild and exotic lingered in his mouth. It was smoky, but not like traditional wood smoke.

“Few have, the land has long since slipped beneath the sea. Valyria was once the greatest city in all Thedas, rivalling even the Tevinter Imperium in might. The Valyrians were ruled by dragon lords who rode the beasts into battle. They nearly conquered the northern lands before a sudden doom caused their entire island to vanish into the waves.” Anders passed the bottle back to the elf who took another sip, “all that’s left is the barrels they stored the wine in. The barrels were carved from giant trees that bore the faces of their gods and the insides scorched with dragon fire.”

“Explains the after taste.” Garrett took one last sip. The wine was stronger than he had expected and he was already beginning to feel the blissful haze the came with being pleasantly tipsy. “Maybe that should be our next adventure, finding all the remaining bottles and drinking them.”

“Sounds good to me,” Anders gave the half empty bottle back. He was also feeling a bit tipsy from the wine. It was even better than the bottle of Aqua Magus the Commander had given him last Wintersend. He wouldn’t mind if more of Garrett’s little adventures ended with a bottle of great spirits. The three parted as the two mages walked hand in hand back to the Amell Estate.

The house was silent when they got home, only the snuffling snores of Archon the mabari breaking the quiet. They stole away into Garrett’s room and stripped down to their smalls before climbing up onto the large warm bed. As much as they might have wanted to try something a little more athletic before sleep, both were too tired to do anything more than cuddle beneath the blankets. Garrett pulled Anders to press his back to his chest, wrapping him in his arms before pressing a bearded kiss to the back of the neck. Anders smiled sleepily as he felt the kiss and the beating heart against his spine. The Maker appeared to be looking out for them, he thought as he closed his eyes and drifted off into the Fade. Garrett followed him quickly into slumber, burying his nose into golden hair that smelled like healing herbs. The last thing he thought of before his mind slipped into dreams was how lucky he was to go home and hold his love as they settled in for the night. He hoped the day would come when everyone was this lucky. 


	20. The Light Before Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Act 2 continues to progress as a serial killer appears to be on the loose. The worst part? He might be Orlesian.

**_I am not alone._ **

**_Even as I stumble on the path,_ **

**_With my eyes closed, yet I see._ **

**_The Light is here_ **

**_-Canticle of Trials 1:15_ **

****

They were awoken a few hours later by Bodahn knocking on Garrett’s door saying that there was a visitor awaiting Messer Hawke in the foyer. They were slow to get up, taking the time to cast glances and small touches as they dressed for the day.

Awaiting them in the foyer was Aveline and a graying man in Templar armor. The two of them were arguing in escalating tones that were filling the chamber. Anders’ chest tightened in his chest as instinctual fear filled him. The Templars had no control over mages in the Grey Wardens, but Garrett was a long escaped apostate of the Ferelden Circle. What if the Templar was here to take him away and Aveline was trying to stop him?

“I’ve told you before Ser Emeric that there wasn’t enough evidence,” Aveline said, “we raided the house and found nothing.”

“The sniveling fop is guilty, I know it. He’s the one behind all the disappearances.” Disappearances, Anders thought, perhaps the Templar wasn’t here to arrest Garrett after all. The Templar, Emeric, turned to Garrett as he descended the stairs and gave him a polite nod, “Serah Hawke, I apologize for coming to your home at this hour, but I need your help in an urgent matter.”

“Ser Emeric, it’s been a while.” The two men shook hands, “have you had any luck in finding your killer? I remember you had some good leads at one time.” The Templar shook his head sadly.

“I’m afraid I haven’t and the guard has been of no help.” Aveline scowled.

“What about the evidence, the bones in the foundry,” Garrett looked to Aveline, “you were there the night we found those bones, Aveline. Wasn’t the guard able to use it?”

“No,” Emeric gruffly interjected, “they said the bone could have come from anywhere. That they could have been collected by scavengers looking for bits of a gold.”

“We have to consider all possibilities,” Aveline calmly reasoned, “we can’t just act on a hunch, Ser Emeric. There’s a process to these things.”

“While you have ‘processed’ at least three more women have gone missing in the last two years,” Emeric’s blue eyes darkened with anger. He had known one of the victims. Mharen had been his friend for many years. In their youth, they had been even closer than that. Age had cooled the passion they had once shared, but their friendship had survived. When she had disappeared, a part of Emeric had gone too. “Please, Serah, what if it was a woman you knew?” Anders watched the corner of Garrett’s eye twitch. He was probably thinking of his mother or Bethany. Emeric had hit a nerve.

“Alright Emeric, I’ll help.” Not for the first time Garrett wondered why everyone came to him with their problems. Could no one solve their own problems in this city? “What has your investigation uncovered?” Emeric gave a relieved smile even as Aveline rolled her eyes.

“It is no longer my investigation. The Knight Commander has taken this matter out of my hands after the guard raided the house of Gascard DuPuis on my suspicion.” Garrett snickered at the name, “yes, yes, it’s _Orlesian_.” Emeric practically spat out the last word, “He’s a noble from Montsimmard who has become quite reclusive of late. I know that he was acquainted with two of the women who went missing. One of them was his sister, the other the daughter of a minor Rivaini noble. He’s started to ask questions about them and the other women who have gone missing. If it were just them, I might not be so concerned, but the poncy bastard also knew about Mharen and Ninette.”

“I’ll take a look then.”

“That’s all I can ask, Maker smile on you Serah.” Emeric crossed his arms and departed the house. Garrett had been wary about working with a Templar when he first came to Kirkwall several years ago. Initially, he had only participated in the investigation because he needed the money to help fund Bartrand’s Deep Road expedition. But after learning about the other women he had grown genuinely concerned about the whole matter. Finding the sack of bones in a foundry full of shades had made things worse. He had passed the information along to Emeric and the two had kept an eye out for any rogue blood mages who might have a penchant for kidnapping women. But there hadn’t been anything new in over a year so far as Garrett knew so it had drifted away to the vault at the back of his mind.

“Why can’t he spend his declining years in Val Royeux building a boat?” Aveline asked with exasperation. The Templar had been badgering the office of the guard for months now to reopen their investigation. They had agreed to conduct a search on DuPuis’ home and it had ended up another dead end. An embarrassing dead end.

“He had some good leads at one time,” Garrett said, “I think we should check it out just in case.”

“Alright, if it helps you sleep better at night. I wouldn’t get my hopes up though.” Aveline looked at Anders, as if expecting him to suddenly jump in as the voice of reason. 

“An evening with a possible Orlesian blood mage? Still better than crawling through the Deep Roads.” Garrett smiled at him.

“At worst we can all sit down have some tea and outlandishly expensive cheese and laugh if this is just a misunderstanding.” The corners of Aveline’s mouth turned up just a little at that. Garrett was always the more easy going of the two. “Was there anything else? I don’t want to keep you from your duties, I know being captain keeps you busy.”

“Yes, there are two things actually.” Aveline handed Garrett an envelope that was marked with the wax seal of the Viscount’s office. “The Seneschal passed it onto me before I left the Keep. I would respond post haste, the Viscount doesn’t like to be kept waiting. If I had to guess, it probably involves the Qunari.” Garrett tore the seal and read the few cramped lines. It was vague, only saying that his presence was needed as soon as possible, but Aveline was likely right. Not even dealing with the Templars caused such urgency in Dumar. “And there was something more personal I wanted to ask.” Aveline removed her gauntlet to show a shiny gold ring with swirling patterns etched into the metal and a single diamond set low to avoid catching on anything. Garrett laughed and pulled the red head into a tight hug.

“Congratulations!” Garrett gave her a peck on the cheek before pulling away, “have the two of you decided when you want to have the ceremony?”

“We were thinking sometime early next spring. It will give us plenty of time to plan everything.” Aveline replaced her gauntlet, but not before taking another look at the ring herself. She was so happy that she was almost glowing. “Donnic’s mother wants a traditional ceremony in the Chantry, but Donnic and I want an outdoor ceremony. I don’t want to intrude, but would it be possible for us to have the ceremony in your mother’s garden?”

“It would be an honor. Just one question, are you getting married in your armor?” Aveline gave Garrett a playful punch to the arm. “Alright, I see I’ve reached my dumb question limit for the day.”

“Good, now chop chop, let’s not keep his Excellency waiting.”

~~

“This is a disaster!” Garrett watched the Viscount pace as he took a cursory examination of the broken Qunari bodies. The delegate that he had invited to his office in an attempt to broker a more peaceful relationship between Kirkwall and it’s Qunari guests was now dead. Their weapons were still tied in their sheaths. They never had a chance to fend off their attackers. “What happened?”

“They were attacked by Chantry fanatics led by a rogue Templar.” Garrett told the Viscount. He along with Anders, Aveline, and Varric had followed their trail first to the Hanged Man where a man with a loose tongue revealed the Chantry’s involvement. From there they had hurried to speak with the Grand Cleric, but were stopped by Mother Petrice. Garrett had barely been able to keep his temper when they talked. He was still angry at her for attempting to kill him all those years ago. When he accused her of being a bad girl hiding behind the Chantry’s skirts she had reluctantly told them about Ser Varnell. She claimed that he had taken matters into his own hands, but no one was convinced. If not so worried about the safety of the kidnapped Qunari, Garrett would have taken the time to press the issue. But he knew time was of the essence, so he let Petrice go.

They had gone to a small tunnel in Darktown that Petrice had given them a map to. There they saw Varnell inciting a mob to a blood frenzy as he declared them to be tools of the righteous. He had proclaimed the Qunari were beasts and heretics that deserved no mercy from the followers of the Divine. Mother Petrice appeared from the shadows and condemned Varnell’s actions even as he tried to get her blessing. She knew that Varnell could not hope to stand against Hawke, a friend of the Arishok, and cut her losses. This enraged Varnell and he took a knife to the closest Qunari.

Garret had attempted to stop him from slashing the throats of the bound Qunari, but wasn’t quick enough. Varnell and a few of his men cut their throats just as Garrett and his companions attacked. They were unable to save the Arishok’s delegates, but they took down their murderers. The mob was made up mostly of poor people from Darktown and the lesser parts of Lowtown. They were no soldiers and their strength was reliant on numbers rather than skill. Garrett loathed having to kill any of them, but he knew that if he did not they would hurt him and his friends. The best he could do was make their deaths quick and relatively painless as he called down a storm of lightning upon them. The amplitude of the lightning was so high it killed nearly instantaneously. 

Varnell, he was not so kind to. The man had manipulated these people and deserved to pay for it. Garrett used his power to create a crushing pillar of energy that would break and tear his bones and muscles. Varnell had screamed in agony as the pillar forced him to his knees. His screams were cut short when Varric fired a bolt into his forehead, putting the Templar out of his misery.  When all the fanatics were dead, Aveline had sent word to her guardsmen to bring the Viscount. The man had arrived and been sickened by the sights and smells of burnt flesh. He almost vomited on Garrett’s boots before he got himself together enough to see the bodies of the Qunari.

“Chantry involvement? Fanatics are always braver behind closed doors. Maker, as if things couldn’t get any worse.” The Viscount rubbed his bald head in frustration, “what should we do? Should we inform the Arishok?”

“It’s likely he already knows your Excellency. If we try to hide this from him, it will only make him angry.” Garrett could see the cogs turning in the Viscount’s head. The man was a coward and frankly unfit for his position. Many of the nobles were convinced the man had less backbone than a jellyfish and some even whispering for a replacement. Not that the Knight Commander would ever allow it, she used the Viscount as her mouthpiece since he was so pliable. And the Viscount would never go against her, he was both terrified of her and desperate to cling to what little real power he had.

“I suppose you are right. Perhaps you will speak with him? The Arishok seems to have at least some respect for you.” Anders watched the exchange between the two men. It seemed to him that Garrett was acting more like the viscount of Kirkwall than it’s actual ruler. Garrett was calm, poised, and thoughtful in his speech and actions. Everything the Viscount currently was not. It made Anders proud of his lover.

“If that is your wish, but I make no promises on being able to actually satisfy him. I don’t think anything about this city ever can. You could give him a sack of gold and he’d complain about it being heavy.” From the stories that Aedan told about his friend Sten and his trip to Par Vollen after the Blight, that sounded like an accurate description of the Qunari to Anders. He himself was nervous about Garrett going anywhere near a people that collared their mages and had their lips sewn shut. He found himself grabbing Garrett’s hand without thinking, squeezing tighter than was necessary. Garrett looked at him from the corner of his eye and squeezed back to assure him that everything would be fine.

“You’re probably right, but it would probably be better coming from you than anyone from my office. I wish you the best of luck Serah Hawke and thank you once again for your assistance in these grave matters.” The Viscount handed him a small purse of gold and left with his body guards.

“Things just keep getting better and better, all we need now is for someone to blow up the Chantry.” Garrett sighed, still holding Anders’ hand. “Maybe we should all jump on the next boat out of here, I hear Antiva is lovely this time of year.”

“And full of assassins, love. Or so the Commander says.” They left the small alcove the fanatics had been using and headed back towards the surface. Varric pestered Anders the whole way back to Hightown with questions about him and Hawke. Had there been declarations of undying love, who jumped who, and did someone get down on one knee? When Anders refused to answer Varric just said he would make up the most ridiculously florid tale of true love for his audience at the Hanged Man. “Don’t you ever get tired of telling stories about Garrett? I’m amazed you don’t tell stories about yourself.”

“Oh, I try Blondie, it starts off with a handsome, irresistible dwarf with the lovely crossbow and heart of gold, but somehow Hawke always ends up the hero. He’s just the right combination of tragic, down to earth, hopeless romantic, and utterly unbelievable. You sprinkle that with a liberal helping of bullshit and let it percolate. Perfect for stories.” As the two talked about tall tales, Aveline and Garrett walked ahead. Aveline confided her worries about the Arishok’s growing influence in the city. There had been more and more converts to the Qun in the last few months as the Viscount’s power diminished and the Chantry remained silent. There had been some skirmishes between the two factions, but nothing to this magnitude so far. Garrett was surprised that the Qunari accepted converts in this city that they claimed to despise. He wasn’t as surprised about the violence though. No fanatic is as dangerous as a fanatic that believes the divine is on their side.

“I can’t imagine any of this ending well,” Aveline said, “I fear we’re on at the calm before the storm. The Arishok has been … reasonable so far, but for his people to be attacked so openly, I don’t see him remaining reasonable much longer.”

“You could be right, but let’s hope we can reason with him should the worst happen. I don’t think the Qunari would want to risk an all-out war with the Free Marches, not when they are still fighting with Tevinter.” The four parted ways when they arrived in Hightown. Aveline went back to the barracks to write a report and work on the schedule for the next week. Varric left to attend a meeting with the Merchant’s Guild after walking with Anders and Garrett to the main square near the Amell estate. He bid them goodbye and invited them back to the Hanged Man later for drinks and cards. He wanted to get blinding drunk after dealing with the cut throats who called themselves merchants. Garrett and Anders promised to drop by later that evening if they were able to.

“I feel dirty,” Garrett said as the door closed behind them, “those people should not have died. Petrice used them.”

“They would have killed you, sweetheart. You did what you had to.” Anders set his staff aside near the fireplace and took the opportunity to warm himself. The winter chill was starting to settle in Kirkwall. Hightown being set above the protective rock cliffs that shielded Lowtown from the worst of the icy sea winds was colder than the rest of the city. Garrett placed his staff next to Anders’ and moved to wrap his arms the taller man. He rested his chin on Anders’ shoulder and looped his long arms around his waist.

“Maybe, but I still wish they didn’t have to die.” Anders leaned back into the body behind him, reveling in the silent strength it offered him.

“You can’t save everyone, love. There’s some who don’t want to be saved.” Anders sighed as a kiss was placed on the back of his neck as Garrett tugged his hair free from it tie. Strong fingers combed through the golden strands, undoing any snarls and tangles left by the day’s exertions. Anders hummed as his scalp was gently massaged.

“Won’t stop me from trying you know. I have a soft spot for lost causes.” Well, that did explain his continued friendship with Merrill.

“I know, just be careful, please?” Hawke nodded and turned him so that they could properly kiss. “Do you think Varric would be terribly upset if we forgot to drop by?”

“Forgot?” Laughed Garrett, “it would take something pretty distracting for me to forget a round of drinks at the Hanged Man.”

“I’m sure we could think of one or two things that are _distracting._ ” A firm palm landed on the small of Garrett’s back as the fingers teased lower. Yes, there were quite a few things they could do at home that were far better than a few mugs of rat flavored whiskey. When he held Garrett so close he could almost feel the other mage’s pulse jumping like jackrabbit. When he licked a wet strip up from the base of his neck to his ear, he could feel the artery throbbing close to the surface of the skin. He loved how sensitive Garrett was on his neck, it made him shiver every time without fail.

“Maybe you could show me how distracting you are in our bedroom.” Something warm filled Anders’ stomach when Garrett called it ‘our’ room. If he had been harboring any doubts about Garrett wanting to pursue a relationship, they were gone.

“I think I’d like that.” Garrett leaned up to give him a chaste kiss before taking his hand and leading him up the stairs to their room. The mabari was sent to sleep downstairs and the door locked to prevent any interruptions. When they didn’t make it down for dinner, Leandra just shook herself at the sweetness of young love and made sure that Orana left some food out for whenever the boys did get hungry.

Neither of them made it down to the Hanged Man, but Varric wasn’t all that disappointed. If anything it gave him time to pen down the next chapter in his ongoing saga about the Hawke and his Warden. He had needed new material for his Hard in Hightown series and those two lovestruck idiots provided great inspiration.

As for Garrett and Anders, they spent most of the night making up for lost time. They would need to focus on their tasks and the city when the next morning came, but for now the world condensed itself down to four walls and two people. When they did finally fall asleep for the night, they were wrapped so tightly around each other that not even a spirit could have passed between them.    


	21. To Gird in Holy Fire

_**'Oh spirits of valor and fortitude,** _

_**Defend us in battle,** _

_**Gird us in holy fire,** _

_**Be our defense against wickness and** _

_**Snares of the fallen.** _

_**May the Maker rebuke them,** _

_**Your humble children pray,** _

_**Into the void, banish them.'** _

_**\- Prayer of the Andrastian soldier (written by Divine Amata)** _

Garrett tugged at the color of his new blue tunic. It was made from some fancy, scratchy, and stiff material that had some long Orlesian name he didn’t care to learn. His mother had bought it a few days earlier when she had been shopping in the Hightown Market. Leandra had insisted that he look his best for Fifi du Lancet’s debutante ball. The youngest daughter of the du Lancet family had finally come of marrying age and every noble in Hightown was invited.

He could understand his mother going as she was an old acquaintance of Guillame du Lancet and his wife Dulci, but didn’t know why she was dragging him along. He’d rather spend a night playing Diamondback with the Arishok. His only consolation was that Anders had been roped in as well. The poor Warden had crumbled under her puppy eyes before he could get a single word of protest out.

“Hold still,” Anders took a hold of the tunic and straightened it, undoing the top button so Garrett wouldn’t be so tempted to scratch himself. “There, better?”

“I can breathe again, it’s a miracle.” Anders gave him a light swat on the back of the head. Anders loved the color of the tunic. It was a deep blue the color of the Amaranthine Sea and almost the exact shade of Garrett’s eyes. The silverite threading glinted in the light of the hearth as he smoothed the invisible wrinkles. “Maker, where did you get that?” Garrett pointed to the deep crimson tunic with gold accents that Anders had draped over his arm.

“Three guesses and the first two don’t count.” Leandra had also bought Anders a new set of clothes for the party. She figured that since he was going to be part of the family, he might as well start dressing like it. It made it hard for Anders to picture Leandra as the wife of an apostate mage on the run. She was so proper and worldly. He couldn’t imagine her outside of her current aristocratic role. But her kindness and gentle nature were so different from most of the other nobles Anders had run into that he was no longer so surprised she had chosen to marry outside her station. He couldn’t complain about that. It had resulted in the best thing in his life.

“I should have warned you. Mother will walk all over you if you let her.” Anders shrugged as he slipped on his new tunic. He didn’t mind. He was actually quite enjoying the affection Leandra gave him. Just the other day he had found a small loaf of bread in his pocket with a note from Leandra reminding him to eat more often.

“It’s alright, your Mother has been so kind to me. It makes me wish I remembered my own mother a bit better.”

“You don’t remember yours?” Garrett asked as he grabbed a comb to smooth down his wild hair. He had never heard Anders talk about his family much. He had mentioned his father in passing once when Garrett had told him about Malcolm. Hearing about Anders’ father made him realize how fortunate he had been to have a parent who had nurtured his talents without fear or hate. Anders’ father had been a cold man who had turned his back on his son the day he came into his talents.  

“Not really, I was only six when I left the Anderfels.” Anders pulled on a pair of charcoal colored pants as he talked. All he had was flashes of near white blonde hair and the smell of damp earth on her skin. She might have been pretty. Even those vague iages he wasn’t so sure about anymore. Time had muddled and mixed what little he had with dreams and fantasies. He was certain however of what she had sounded like the day he had left home. His mother, his poor mother, she had cried and tried to hold onto him even as the Templars dragged him from her arms. She tried to grab his outstretched arms, only to be dragged back by her husband as the Templars climbed on top of their horses and rode away. He had only been able to look back once before their horses galloped over the hills. His mother had tried to run after them, but was unable to keep up.  She had screamed and cried, falling to her knees as she begged for them to return her boy. _Bitte! Bitte mein kind nicht nehmen. Nicht mein sohn!_

“Did you ever write her when you were in the Circle? I would have written to mine if I weren’t so worried about them going after Father.”

“No, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway since she couldn’t read.” It came out harsher than he intended. He could see that when Garrett flinched. He turned away from Garrett to fiddle with the cuffs on the tunic so that he didn’t have to see the pitying look in his partner’s eyes.

“Sorry,” Garrett walked up behind him and pressed an apologetic kiss to the corner of his mouth. Anders forgave him in a second and pulled him in for a real kiss. He hummed happily as he stroked the bristles of the trimmed beard brushing against his newly shaved face. He truly was being spoiled in that aspect. “We better get going, don’t want to be late.” With a few last minute tugs and brushings, they were ready to go.

Leandra was waiting for them in the foyer when they hurried down the stairs. She was tapping her foot impatiently as she stared into the hearth. She smiled approvingly at the two of them, pleased how handsome they looked in their new clothes. She fussed over them for a bit, attempting to pat down her son’s unruly hair and telling them both to stand straight with shoulders back. She couldn’t let them go to the du Lancet’s party slouching like a couple of dock workers. Once she was satisfied with their appearances they left to walk the short distance to the du Lancet estate near the Chantry.

The plaza was wonderfully free of bandits and cutpurses that evening. From what Aveline had told Garrett, there had been an overall drop in violent crime in the last year. Part of it was due to her stance on crime as she made reforms in the city guard. There was also the fact that a number of the smaller gangs had been eliminated by larger more powerful groups. Those that had been involved in slavery rings had been wiped out months ago as the Company of Freemen took over Darktown. Fenris had certainly slept better at night after hearing that.

They were met at the door by one of the du Lancet’s servants who collected their invitations and announced their arrival, Lady Leadra Amell – Hawke, her son Serah Garrett Hawke, and Ser Anders of the Grey Wardens. After they all greeted their hosts and wished Lady Fifi a happy birthday, Leandra left to go say hello to a few friends. Garrett and Anders were able to sneak away after stopping to make sure they spoke to a few people who would remember seeing them at the party. The two had no intention of staying, instead using the party as a cover to go investigate the DuPuis residence that was a stone’s throw away. When they had learned that Gascard DuPuis would be spending his evening at the Du Lancet residence rather than hiding away in his mansion, they had decided to use the situation to their advantage.

Garrett did make sure to stop and speak with Gascard for a bit before they snuck out. He pretended to be deep in his cups, having smuggled in a flask of Antivan brandy to complete the illusion. Just sipping a few drops of the sweetly pungent liquid had made his breath smell like a drunk’s. He stood close to the Orlesian noble and feigned a slight wobble, bobbing his head a bit as he carried on and on about speed griffons for a solid five minutes. Anders pretended to be exasperated with his lover, pleading Gascard’s forgiveness as he led the other man away to lie down for a bit. Gascard must have been fooled since he looked quite happy when Anders dragged the stumbling man towards to the servants’ quarters. Once out of sight, Garrett dropped the act and tossed the flask.

“Maker, you really pulled that off. Where did you get the brandy?” Anders peeked out the backdoor to make sure there was no one standing about in the alley.    

“Pulled it off Gamlen last time he fell asleep in the study. The flask is his too, but it might do him some good to get off the bottle for a bit.”  The two made sure to leave the door unlocked so they could get back in once they were finished at the DuPuis home. They stuck to the side streets and hopped over a few low stone walls to get to the back of the mansion. At the backdoor was Isabela and Varric with their staves.

“Hightown must be really boring if you’re resorting to burglary for fun.” Isabela handed Garrett his staff and a small bag holding a few potions.

“And here I thought you would be proud of me. You have to admit it, you’ve wanted to do something like this for a while now.” The dark skinned beauty laughed.

“Oh Varric, our little Hawke is all grown up. I’m so proud.” Garrett rolled his eyes and hit her with small burst of static energy, “oh, that was nice, is that what mages do in bed together? No wonder you skipped out on us the other night.” Garrett colored and Isabela only laughed harder at him. “Oh sweet thing you are so easy.”

“Enough Rivaini, you’re turning Hawke into a tomato. Can’t have my stories including that bit.” Garrett grumbled about hating them both, “would you do the honors Rivaini?” Isabela removed a small set of lock picks from somewhere on her person and went to work on the door. It only took her a few seconds to get the lock to slide open and the door to creak open. “Is it just me, or was that too easy?”

“People in Hightown have terrible locks. If we were in Lowtown it would take me much longer.” The closeness to the Keep and the barracks did offer a sense of security that made people get lax about security. Garrett had been a bit more paranoid when he moved up to Hightown and had a locksmith from Lowtown come and fix his doors so that thieves wouldn’t have such an easy time getting in. 

The house was completely silent as they entered in from the kitchen. There weren’t any servants or guards or even a pet to fill the void of life. They stopped first in the foyer where they found a note from Knight Commander apologizing for the trouble the raid on his house had caused him. Garrett doubted the sincerity of the apology. From what he had heard, the Knight Commander was firm in her beliefs of her own self-righteousness to a fault. She never apologized if she could get away with it.

The moved next to the study upstairs. On first glance, it was completely normal. It was filled with books on a variety of subjects and the walls were decorated with numerous portraits of relatives and a few musty hunting trophies. There was a number of books on the subject of magic, but that itself was not evidence of a mage’s presence. Many in Hightown liked to indulge in reading about the arcane. When flipping through a few of Gascard’s books, a note fell to Garrett’s feet. It was a worn piece of parchment that had been sent from the desk of the First Enchanter of Starkhaven. It was in regards to Gascard’s hunt for a specific mage who had escaped the Circle many years before and his unusual interest in the mage’s unorthodox research. It politely thanked him for his inquiries, but also asked him to bugger off.

“It’s strange, but not evidence he’s a blood mage,” Anders said as he read the letter, “I wonder what the mage was researching. Why would a non-mage care?”

“Maybe he is a mage, Emeric could be right about that.” It was easier to stay out of the Circle when you had money and a title to hide behind. The Templars couldn’t just burst into a Hightown mansion and drag the owner off without some of their powerful friends pitching a fit. “Let’s keep looking.” They continued through the study and into the hallway that led to the bedrooms. In the one furthest down the hall they found a chest full of women’s clothing, both common and fine. On the desk were several vials filled with blood.

“Blood magic.” Anders hissed, “I could feel something wrong as soon as we left the study. The man’s been practicing blood magic.”

“We need to tell Emeric about this, tell him that he isn’t going mad.” They found more vials of blood and a cabinet with more clothing in the next room. In the last room, likely Gascard’s, was a woman who was bound and gagged. She screamed at them from behind the cloth strip, pleading for their help. Isabela cut the rough ropes that were binding her and untied the gag.

“Please, get me out of here,” the woman struggled to her feet, “he’s mad, he hurt me.” She showed them a bandage around her arm where the skin had been cut.

“We’ll get you home.” Garrett spoke in a calming voice, “did Gascard DuPuis kidnap you?” The woman nodded furiously, and then screamed. “Maker, no!” A pulse of telekinetic energy sent them all tumbling to the floor. When Garrett looked up, he saw Gascard DuPuis standing in the doorway.

“You?! The drunken Ferelden? What are you doing here?” Gascard demanded, “get away from her.” The woman whimpered and cried as he came closer. Garrett shot a burst of electricity at the blood mage, hoping to take him down quickly. The blood mage was able to block him with a barrier, “you’re a mage? I should have guessed. The only way a stinking dog-lord could get into Hightown was with magic.” Garrett sneered angrily at the pompous ass. He didn’t take kindly to people, especially Orlesians, bad mouthing his homeland.

“I’d rather be the poorest turnip famer in the Bannorn than a blood mage.”  Garrett threw a stone fist at the Orlesian, knocking him off balance, “run!” The woman ran out the room screaming and out to the safety of the open streets.

“Damn it,” Garscard snarled, “I was trying to help her. I’m a blood mage, yes, but I’m not the killer. The real killer is still out there.”

“I don’t believe you,” Garrett replied, taking out his staff in preparation for a fight, “You can never trust a blood mage. I’m going to hand you over to the Templars and let them deal with you.” Gascard’s eyes widened in terror. He knew that the Templars would show him no mercy for dabbling in the dark arts. He grabbed a knife from his belt and stabbed himself in the hand. With a burst of blood and power, he reached into their minds and bound their bodies.    

None of them could move, the spell holding them was too strong. Garrett could only move his eyes, and even that felt like it took every ounce of willpower he had. He saw the others from his peripheral view. Isabela and Varric were still holding their weapons. He thought he could see the firm muscles of Isabela’s thighs twitching from futile efforts to break free, but the rest of her was still as a statue. Anders was glancing around too, his lower lip trembling as he attempted to move his tongue. 

“I'm afraid I cannot allow you to alert the Templars. There is still much to be done." The Orlesian picked up the broken bindings that had held the young woman, "damn, I'll have to find her before the guards." Gascard tossed the ropes aside and glared at Garrett, he wanted to make the mage pay. He sneered and turned to Anders. "Ahh, almost forgot you ser Warden. If you would be so kind, do one thing for me,” Gascard waved a bloody dripping hand at Anders, “take the knife from your belt,” Anders grabbed the hilt and jerked it out of the sheath, “and plunge it into your lover’s heart.” He moved like a puppet, jerking and twisting against the magic that was compelling his body to fight everything his mind was raging against. Garrett watched with terror as Anders held the blade up, angled to go straight into his heart in one thrust. He was screaming internally for Anders to stop, to fight the spell. The blade came down and Garrett shut his eyes, certain they would not open again. He didn’t want to see his love’s face when the dagger killed him.

But the blow never came. He cracked an eye open to see the end of the blade just inches from his chest, Anders shaking as he fought the compulsion. Sweat poured down his face from the effort and he was breathing as if he as running a marathon. “Kill him! Kill him now!” Gascard commanded, slicing his other palm to release more power.

“N…nnnn…No.”Anders stuttered. Something strange happened next. Garrett felt a burst of energy come from Anders. Energy that had no place in a living person. He felt it before he saw it. Pure, raw energy from the Fade that crackled along Anders’ skin in bright blue crevices. All mages had a portal to the Fade inside of them that allowed for the use of magic, but this was like a door that had been thrown right off it’s hinges. The spell of Garrett weakened a bit at the sudden wave of spirit energy that had collided against DuPuis’ demonic blood magic. He could move his mouth and speak, but the rest of him was still frozen.

“Anders?” The blonde didn’t respond. Not to that.

“You, mage, you seek to consort with demons,” what came out of those lips was a deeper, angrier sound than any Garrett had ever heard Anders use. It didn’t sound like him at all, “how dare you attempt to control me, to control Justice.” DuPuis realized the danger he was in and dropped his staff. He turned to run, but was stopped by a sudden bolt of spirit energy that tossed him against the wall. Anders, whatever the thing inside him was, picked him up by the collar and shoved him hard against the wall. “The blood of innocents is on your hands, I will have Justice for them.” Gascard headbutted him in a desperate attempt to get away. It didn’t bother Anders in the slightest. He tightened his hold on the Orlesian’s neck and slammed his head against the wall. Gascard cried out as the back of skull harshly connected with the stone wall. He pleaded for mercy but received none. He was thrown to the floor and tried to crawl away, but a hard fist connected to his jaw. A cracking sound indicated it was broken. Gascard covered his face, but the heavy fists rained blow after blow on him.

In the midst of their struggle, Garrett broke free. He was scared of what was going on, what was happening to his love, but he needed to top him before he did something he regretted. He grabbed Anders’ fist as he raised it to deliver another punch to the now unconscious Orlesian. Anders snarled at him.

“Anders, love, stop this, please!” The entity inside blinked at him. For a brief second, Garrett was afraid it would turn it’s wrath on him.

“You,” it spoke with Anders’ lips, “you would show this creature mercy?” Garrett nodded furiously and knelt down so that they were at eye level, “why?”

“Not for his sake, but for Anders.” The spirit seemed confused, “he would hate himself if he killed this man. Those women will get justice when the Templars deal with him.” This seemed to satisfy the spirit. It looked at Garrett a moment longer, as if unsure of what to do next.  

“You are safe now. I will sleep once more.” The blue cracks disappeared and the spirit had gone dormant once more. Garrett grabbed Anders before he could fall over, holding him tight and whispering hushed reassurances as the mage came back to himself.

“Garrett?” Anders said, seeming in a bit of a daze, “what happened?” He gasped as he looked to the side and saw the crumpled body of Gascard DuPuis and the blood that was on his hands. He began panicking and squirming in Garrett’s arms, trying to get away and to stay close at the same time. “What did I do? Maker, what did I do?” He asked over and over. Garrett just held him and rocked him, trying to calm him back down.

He had known that Anders had done something to himself when they were last in the Fade searching for Feynriel, but had assumed it was part of the bond that spirit healers normally shared with the spirits. This, whatever it was, was something else. He had a piece of the Fade, a piece of a spirit, inside himself. If the Templars ever found out, they’d declare him an abomination and execute him without a second thought. He knew that Anders was not abomination, but he wasn’t entirely himself anymore either.

Varric and Isabela kept back from them, probably a mix of fear and confusion. Varric was the one to break the silence, asking what they should do now. Garrett instructed him and Isabela to go get word to Ser Emeric and Knight Captain Cullen about the blood mage that had been living in Hightown. If they were curious as to why he looked like he had gone three rounds with the Arishok, just tell them he resisted the investigation. He doubted it would come to that when the words blood mage were uttered though. There was enough evidence in the house to back up any and all claims Garrett could make. The two rogues cast Garrett one last glance before heading off to the Gallows. They weren’t entirely comfortable with leaving the two mages after what they had just seen, but as Varric had pointed out once, mages deal with weird shit.

It took quite a bit of time, but Garrett was able to get the two of them upright and walking out of the mansion. Anders had slipped into a catatonic state and barely capable of moving his own feet. Garrett all but carried him all the way back to the Amell estate.

After getting back home, Garrett led a silent Anders up to their room. He left him to sit in front of the fire while he grabbed a few things. He filled a basin in the kitchen with some water and grabbed a few towels from the linen closet. He grabbed a new bar of elfroot scented soap and added it to his supplies. He returned to find Anders right where he had left him, still staring numbly into the fire.

Garrett sat down next to him and used a small warming spell to heat the water. He wet a towel and began the chore of cleaning up the blood on Anders’ hands and face. The blood took a little while to clean off, the red liquid had already started drying on his skin. When he finished with his hands, he moved onto his face. There wasn’t as much on Anders’ face, most of it concentrated in a single splotch on the right cheek. He had to leave again to empty to basin of the pink hued liquid and came back with more warm water to clean the few drops that had gotten into golden hair.

The heat of the fire and the soft caress of Garrett’s fingers brought Anders back to himself slowly. Garrett was sitting the edge of the bed running a comb through Anders’ hair as he blinked back to awareness. He looked back down at his hands and saw that the blood was gone.

“Love?” Garrett asked, not certain what to say. Anders turned to look up at him.

“Garrett, Maker’s breathe, you’re alright.” Anders said with a shuttering voice. He was still reeling from blacking out with a knife pressed against Garrett’s neck. When he had come to, he had first feared the blood on his hands to be Garrett’s. When he had looked down and seen the Orlesian maleficar’s bloody head, he knew that he had done something terrible. He had blanked out again after, only vaguely aware of the voices and hands leading him away from the DuPuis manor. Feeling Garrett’s tender hands on his hair had brought him back from the emptiness.

Garrett was relieved when Anders exited his catatonic state. Garrett coaxed his lover to lie down on the bed, straddling him when his back hit the mattress. He looked down into those amber orbs and felt warmth tingling down his back. Anders was here, safe in their rooms. The blood magic that Gascard had attempted to use on Anders was gone, struck down by the piece of the spirit living inside his soul. It had come at a cost though. Anders couldn’t remember striking out at Gascard and nearly killing him with the spirit’s wrath. He came to with the man’s blood on his hands and face, not knowing what he had done. He’d been terrified, shaking as he stared down at Gascard’s bloody, still breathing form. He would have collapsed if Garrett hadn’t caught him. Garrett sent Varric to send word to Ser Emeric and Knight Captain Cullen about the blood mage living in Hightown. He had tried to use his magic to force them to turn on each other. If Anders hadn’t acted, they would likely all have been killed.

“Rest, love. You’re safe with me.” Garrett whispered against the blonde strands at Anders’ forehead. He could feel the other man still shaking every now and then under him. Trembling hands came up to grip his shoulders, fingers digging into the flesh and muscle.

“If you, if you hadn’t been there, if you hadn’t stopped me,” Anders sobbed, “Maker knows what I would have done to him. I might have killed him. The spirit would have made me kill him and Maker knows what it might have done to you.”

“He used blood magic on us. The spirit knew I was no enemy, it was trying to defend itself.” Garrett tried to kiss him, but Anders turned his head.

“That’s not an excuse,” Anders slipped out from under him. He curled up on his side, turned away from Garrett. “I almost beat a man to death with my bare hands and I can’t even remember doing it. What if it happens again? What if, what if the spirit inside me feels threatened by you and makes me hurt you?”

“You would never do that, I know you wouldn’t.” Garrett sighed and moved Anders so that he was resting his head on Garrett’s thigh. The blonde ran a hand up and down his leg, assuring himself that he was awake and not dreaming. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

“Not on purpose, no. I should never have allowed the spirit to heal me, it’s ruined me. I’d never forgive myself if it hurt you.” Garrett ran a hand through his damp hair and soothingly rubbed small circles against the base of his skull. Surely, Anders reasoned with himself, the spirit knew that Garrett was not their enemy. Surely, it would not attempt to harm the one thing it’s host truly loved. He didn’t realize he had been crying until Garrett’s thumb was brushing away a tear from his cheek.

“I trust you, Anders.” It was only four words, but they carried more weight than a long soliloquy about undying love and an eternity together. Garrett didn’t just care for him, he trusted him. Trust. Maker, was he worthy of such a responsibility? “Don’t you trust me?”

“You know I do. The one bright thing in my life, of course I trust you.” He sat up and brought up both hands to cup that beautiful bearded face. He had spent so much of his life in darkness and closed spaces that being close to such light was almost painful. It burned his chest when he thought of love and trust and all those things he had never thought to be his. But it was here, in his hands, if he wanted it. Maker, did he want it bad. Garrett was offering him more than a friendship or a place in his bed. He was offering him everything, to be his anchor in this world. Once more dispelling any doubts either carried about this being just a physical thing.

“Good. Now, my dearest sweetheart,” Garrett got him to lay back down with his head resting on the pillows at the headboard, “why don’t you let me take care of you tonight?” Anders called himself a ruin, but Garrett was intent on showing him that wasn’t so. He wasn’t perfect, but he was far from ruined.


	22. The Fading of the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know Carver and Bethany are not really involved in the second act, but the quest 'All That Remains' seems like one where you should have been able to bring them if they were still in Kirkwall. This quest always make me tear up...poor Garrett.

**_Once we were_ **  
**_In our peace_ **  
**_With our lives assured._ **

**_Once we were_ **  
**_Not afraid of the dark._ **

**_Once we sat in our kingdom_ **  
**_With hope and pride._ **

**_Once we ran through_ **  
**_The fields with great strides._ **

**_We held the Fade_ **  
**_And the demon's flight_ **  
**_So far from our children_ **  
**_And from our lives._ **

**_We held together_ **  
**_The fragile sky_ **  
**_To keep our way of life._ **

**_Once we raised_ **  
**_Up our chalice_ **  
**_In victory._ **

**_Once we sat_ **  
**_In the light of our dreams._ **

**_Once we were_ **  
**_In our homeland_ **  
**_With strength and might._ **

**_Once we were_ **  
**_Not afraid of the night._ **

**_-Once We Were, as performed by Bard Marydem Halewell_ **

Saemus Dumar was dead. Murdered in the heart of the Chantry under the eyes of the Maker himself. Garrett had feared the worst when the Arishok told him that the young Dumar had gone to the Chantry to speak with his father. It made no sense, why would the Viscount have sent him to retrieve his son if there was any chance of a reconciliation without his intervention? He had hurried from the docks to the Chantry. They had saved some time by cutting through a series of dank sewer tunnels and emerged from a hatch less than a hundred yards from the Chantry steps. The stench wafted around Garrett and his friends in a dense haze before the opening was slammed shut again. The lingering odor clung to their clothes and made the few pedestrians give them a wide berth.

The Chantry was deserted at first glance with not even the usual sound of distant chanting. As quiet as a crypt, Garrett shuddered as his footsteps were magnified by the marble floors and empty alcoves. Just as he was about to turn back, he saw something at the feet of great golden statue of the Maker. It appeared to be a penitent Saemus.  The young man knelt in front of the giant golden statue of the Maker surrounded by hundreds of hot, melting candles. His companions, Anders, Fenris, and Varric, he signaled to hang back at the entrance of the Chantry while he spoke with Saemus.

As he came up behind the young man, he noticed how still he was. He wasn’t fidgeting or shifting like a normal person would when confined in such a cramped position for a prolonged period. Not even the faintest flutter of his chest to signal he was breathing. When Garrett reached out to tap him Saemus slumped over dead. When he fell to his side, Garrett was able to see the tiny pinprick mark in his neck that must have come from either a very small knife or a poisoned dart. The thud of Saemus' lifeless body echoed in the high vaulted room, bringing his friends running to his side. Ever the healer, Anders checked the young man for any remaining bit of life in the empty vessel. Sadly, he found nothing. The young man had been dead for several hours by the chill of his skin. He did however find the cause of death. As he laid the young man onto his back a broken dart fell from the folds of Saemus’ shirt. Garrett attempted to pick it up with his bare hands, but a sharp slap to the wrist stopped him.

"Don't touch, there could still be some poison on it." Anders picked up the dart without hesitation as he wore a pair of thick drake leather gloves and sniffed cautiously. “Smells like red lotus. Wait, I recognize this, it’s Quiet Death. The Commander’s assassin friend made a large batch the last time he was at the Keep.” Anders dropped the dart, careful not to get any of the poison on his exposed skin. There was the small consolation that the poison delivered a relatively quick and painless passing when injected. “Takes someone with skill to make it and someone with lots of coin to buy it.” There were plenty of wealthy people in Hightown that could afford it, and not all of them lived in fancy mansions.

“This is bad, really, really bad. We should get the Viscount, now.” As they all got to their feet, Mother Petrice made herself known. She came stalking down the aisle with about two dozen Chantry fanatics trailing her. She had a triumphant grin on her face. She had been trying to get rid of Kirkwall’s most prominent supporters of the Qunari. Saemus alone would make a wonderful example, but with Garrett discovered at his side in the hour of his death, they could turn him into the remorseful martyr and Garrett his Qun driven murderer.

“See here, this poor penitent has been murdered in the heart of the Chantry itself,” the murmuring of the crowd behind Petrice grew in volume as they all became witness to Saemus’ dead body. “And his murderer, a heretic whose Qunari sympathies are well known.”

“Why don’t you tell the truth for once, Petrice . You’ve been a very bad girl.” Garrett unstrapped his staff as he knew that there was likely no opportunity for a peaceful solution, “why don’t you admit to what you’ve done? Why kill Saemus?” Petrice’s eyes narrowed when she realized she had been caught.

“I will call the Grand Cleric, she’ll see what you’ve done.” Petrice fled up the stairs to the sleeping quarters of the priests. Her followers were not perturbed from fighting even with their leader gone. They went done easily with a few rounds of bolts from Bianca and Fenris’ broad sweeping blade. Again, Garrett felt pity for the poor souls that had been trapped in Petrice’s schemes. These people were likely angry at their situation in life and looking for someone to blame. Who better than a strange people they didn’t understand.

The Grand Cleric came down the stairs after the fighting was over. She looked very much like a tired old woman. Garrett thought he even saw a tear or two in her eyes as she surveyed the broken bodies. She raised her hand in short benediction and commended their souls to the Maker. “Grand Cleric, this man murdered the Viscount’s son in the heart of the Chantry when he came to repent for turning from the Maker. He..”Elthina stopped her and instead turned to Garrett for the truth. The old woman wasn’t blind, she had known that Petrice was up to something for some time.

“I’m afraid Saemus Dumar was murdered by one of your own your Grace.” Garrett stopped, glaring at the blonde priest who was now seething with barely contained rage, “He was lured here by a false hope of reconciling with his father. But instead of meeting with his father, he was met with an assassin. I’m sorry to say that all evidence points to the woman beside you.” The Grand Cleric turned to the young priest, giving her the chance to defend herself.

“I…he,” Petrice stumbled for an explanation, “he would have led others away from the Chantry, from the Maker. They would have become heretics, following those beasts and the Qun. I did this for the Maker.”

“And we will pray for them,” Elthina said, to the dismay of the young Mother, “your actions diminish the Maker and everything He has created. We do not kill those who have chosen to follow another path, we pray for them and their salvation. You, have dishonored all of us.” Petrice just stared, mouth open in shock. “Serah Hawke, you are friends with the Captain of the Guard, would you please send for her? And also the Viscount, thought I doubt he will be happy about any of this.” The Grand Cleric turned her back on the young mother and ascended the stairs to return to her quarters. Petrice stared after her and begged for her. Elthina did not look back at her, she would leave her fate to the Maker.

There was the sound of heavy footsteps as a member of the Qunari stepped out of the shadows. It raised it’s bow and aimed at Petrice. The first hit her in the chest. Petrice dropped to her knees and stared down at the shaft protruding from her robes.  Her lips moved in quivering, rapid open and closed jerks, but nothing came out. The next hit her in the center of the forehead and ended her short, vindictive life. The Qunari acknowledged Garrett, saying that the Qunari took care of their own. It left a bad taste in Garrett’s mouth. He had feeling that the already bad situation with the Qunari had just become an unfixable mess. He could feel a pressure headache building behind his eyes. He felt stretched thin, pulled in so many directions. He was worrying about the stability of Kirkwall, what it could mean for his family if there should be war with the Qunari, the recent execution of Gascard DuPuis the previous morning, and perhaps most prominent was his concern for Anders.

He was worried about Anders’ continued physical and mental health with that Fade spirit living inside him. He seemed well enough at the moment and when he told him about Wynne’s spirit of Faith, Garrett felt a little better. Still, he didn’t want that _thing_ to get confused and make Anders do something he would regret. He had sent a letter to Feynriel in Tevinter to see if he could find out anything from the magisters in Tevinter about spirit possession. He had also paid a visit to Hightown’s other resident apostate to see if she had learned anything from her time in Tantervale. Nomi had not been able to offer him any new information, but she had promised to speak with a few contacts she had in the different Circles. He hadn’t told Anders anything about his inquiries, not wanting to make Anders feel uneasy or have him think he was in any way frightened of him. Anders was one of the few good things in his life and he wasn’t about to lose him again. Not when he was able to give him those comforting smiles that told him he wasn’t alone, that he wasn’t going to have to carry their entirety of Kirkwall on his shoulders by himself. Even as it’s ruler saw his life come to an end when he arrived at the Chantry to find his only child dead.

Marlowe Dumar had never been a strong man, but he had prided himself on keeping his emotions in check. There was no holding back the tears and sobs as he cradled his son’s cold body. His boy, his only boy, he had been murdered in a place he should have been safe.

“You have my deepest sympathies, Excellency, but Kirkwall needs you to be strong now. The Qunari will not take this lightly.” Garrett hated being the voice of reason in this moment. He wanted to let the man grieve, but there was too much at stake. He hadn’t known Saemus all that well himself, but he found that there was no malice in the young man’s heart. He was a bit naïve and brash, but never cruel.

“Hawke, leave me, please.” The man did not look up as he continued to rock his child. Garrett knew there was nothing else that could be done. Marlowe Dumar’s world had come to an end. All that remained was pain and the knowledge that his own death would completely erase his family from this world forever. Dumar had done no great deeds in his life and Saemus would only be remembered as the murdered boy. History would not carry them forward through the ages. As with so many others, they would fade to dust and air. And the world would carry on as if they never existed at all.

He took his leave then, knowing that Aveline and her guardsmen would have the situation under control. They stopped at Fenris’ mansion to have a few drinks for calling it a night. It was actually clean for once. Garrett had sent Orana over a few times to help Fenris spruce up the place a bit since there was no threat of Hadriana hanging over him. That and Orana did seem to enjoy spending time with the other elf. As a former slave himself, he understood what she was going through and could offer her some advice on how to handle her new freedoms.

The four raised a brief toast to Saemus, musing on what had been and what could never be. Fenris admired the young man for attempting to understand another culture so alien to his own. He could have made a good leader if he had been able to grow up and mature a bit more. Garrett remembered that Saemus had been the first to congratulate him when he had been able to move his family back into the old Amell estate. Saemus had not been bothered by the idea of a ‘dog-lord’ living in such close proximity. The untampered passion of youthful idealism had made the boy shine so very bright in the shadowed city. _A toast to those who lost their lives in pursuit of a better world, we will never forget and will carry you in our hearts wherever fate sends us._ Two bottles of Fenris’ favorite, Aggregio, were emptied and smashed by the time they were done. Garrett and Anders decided it was time for them to call it a night and headed back out into the evening.

It was much cooler now with winter starting to take root in Kirkwall. There wasn’t any snow yet, but it wouldn’t be long until a white blanket was coating everything. The two mages had to wear thicker, wool padded robes to keep from freezing as the wind swept through the open plazas of Hightown. Garrett was mildly tipsy as they left, looping an arm around the less intoxicated Anders for balance support. The other mage was also a bit drunk, but able to walk without stumbling or falling over. Years of trying to drink dwarves under the table, Anders claimed when Garrett asked him about it.  They talked a bit as they went home, their sadness over Saemus’ murder temporarily covered by a warm wash of alcohol. Garrett had rambled a bit about feeling guilty for encouraging Saemus’ open-mindedness whenever they spoke. Maybe if he hadn’t….Anders didn’t let him continue that train of thought, insisting that Saemus had been an adult capable of his own choices, as was his murderer. Garrett shouldn’t blame himself for trying to be a good person. To prevent the dark haired mage from arguing, Anders planted a seering kiss on his lips. Thoroughly distracted, Garrett wrapped his love in a tight embrace and suggested that they hurry on home to continue the kiss in private.

~  

They finally made it home to find that the house was not at peace. Mildly annoyed at having their evening derailed, Garrett and Anders had set aside their staves in the entry hall and ventured into the foyer to find Gamlen shouting at Sandal. The poor boy was only able to answer back in single word answers like ‘enchantment’ or ‘lady’. This only made Gamlen more frustrated and shout louder.

“What’s going on here?” Garrett intervened before Gamlen could scream himself hoarse. The balding man was quick to turn on his nephew.

“You, do you know where your mother is? Is she sick?” Garrett was confused and shook his head, “she never showed up for our weekly dinner and sent no message.”

“No, she was fine this afternoon. Are you certain she didn’t take another path?”

“What about her suitor?” Bodahn asked, entering the room with a vase full of white lilies. Gamlen went on to berate the dwarf about his sister and any potential suitor she might have. Garrett instead focused on the flowers. There was something familiar about them. White lilies, oh Maker no! The warm coating of alcohol that had been cradling his mind evaporated in an instant.

“Bodahn,” Garrett interrupted them, “where did those flowers come from?”

“Lady Amell’s suitor sent them.” Garrett’s eye’s widened and he hurried back to the entry way to collect his and Anders’ staves. Anders was confused but took his staff without complaint, “is something wrong Messere?”

“Send a message to Aveline immediantly, tell her to have someone search the city for Mother. Tell her I found Emeric’s man, she’ll know what it means.” Anders’ felt his blood freeze. Hadn’t they caught the serial killer when the Templars had taken Gascard into custody? Surely, there was a mistake, the killer was dead. “Anders, we need to get to the Gallows and get my brother. Carver was always the better tracker. Uncle,” Gamlen straightened a bit at his nephew’s commanding tone, “go back to Lowtown, make sure she didn’t take a different way. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.” The two mages left, running to catch a boat that would take them to the Gallows.

In the empty market, they met up with Varric who was on his way back to the Hanged Man. He agreed to help them look for Leandra, despite some uneasiness on his part about dealing with more potential mage craziness.

They had to pay double to get the ferryman to take them across the way to get the Gallows, but Garrett could care less. His mother could be in danger and he didn’t care what it took to get her safe. The water was choppy with the rising winter winds and they were nearly tossed out of the small dingy a few times before they reached their destination. Garrett all but threw himself to the dock and dashed up the steep steps. The gate was locked and the guard tried to send him away, but he would not be deterred.

“My brother, I need to speak with my brother! Please, it’s our mother, she’s in danger.” The guard was initially not swayed by his pleas. Garrett began shaking the metal gates and shouting louder, calling for his brother by name and demanding to speak with whoever was in charge. “Let me in, Maker damn you! Carver! Please, answer me brother!” The noise had attracted some attention and several Templars came out into the courtyard to see what the commotion was. It was Knight Captain Cullen who finally intervened before Garrett could kick down the gates.

“What is going on here? Serah Hawke?” Cullen looked at Garrett. Garrett didn’t make direct eye contact with the Templar. Cullen had only been at the Tower for about six months before Garrett had escaped, so he hadn’t gotten the chance to know him. The only reason Garrett remembered him was because of Aeryn’s mild infatuation with the blushing recruit. Cullen hadn’t recognized him on the few previous times they had been forced to interact, but that didn’t mean he never would. If he ever did, Maker help him because he wasn’t going back to the Circle without a fight.

“Knight Captain,” Garrett breathed out, his words shaking from a mix of anxiety and fear, “is Ser Emeric here, I need to speak with him and my brother about the killer you brought in a few days ago. I don’t think he acted alone and now his accomplice has taken my mother. Please, I need my brother’s skills to find our mother before it’s too late.”

“You haven’t heard?” Cullen asked, his brow furrowed, “Emeric was killed this morning by a blood mage.” Garrett felt a chill run down his back, had the same mage who had killed Emeric taken his mother? Was this part of a revenge scheme directed at the people who had killed his accomplice? “Ser Carver,” a young man with the same dark hair as Garrett stepped forward, “go with your brother and bring this killer to justice. If there’s blood magic involved, do what the order dictates.” The younger Templar nodded and saluted his superior before exiting the gates.

“Brother,” Carver greeted. Anders noted that off the two brothers, Carver most favored their mother. While they had the same dark hair and tanned skin, Carver’s eyes and jawline were more reminiscent of Leandra’s. He wasn’t certain how he felt about Garrett’s brother being a Templar, but that wasn't important. Leandra and her safety were all that mattered. “Whose this? Another delicate mage flower?” Anders raised an eyebrow at the younger man’s rude comment. Ok, he was going to punch the younger man when this was all over.

“Carver, not now. We can talk more when Mother is safe.” Carver shut his mouth and fell into line. He didn’t look all that thrilled about his brother’s new choice of ‘friend’, but he wasn’t about to question an order. His training as a soldier did have some discipline instilled in him. They took the boat back the main part of the city and headed down to meet up with Gamlen in Lowtown. They found him yelling at a young street urchin who was sporting a nasty black eye. He had raised his hand to deliver another blow to the child’s face when Garrett caught him by the wrist. “Enough, calm yourself Uncle.” He gave a bit of a bone crushing squeeze as a warning to the old man, reminding him that it was by his good will that Gamlen lived as well and as long as he had.

“The boy saw her, but he won’t tell me about the man who took her.” Gamlen gingerly rubbed his bruised wrist. He sneered when he saw that his other nephew, the glorious Templar had reunited with his do-gooder apostate brother. “So, finally come home have you? Thought Meredith was better about keeping her Templars on a short leash.”

“Shut up, Gamlen.” Carver barely gave the bitter man a thought, he was focused on sensing if there had been any blood magic used in the area recently. His Templar sense could tell him that something wasn’t right, but it was too faint for him to tell. “Ask the boy if he saw the man use any magic.”

“He probably wouldn’t know it if he saw it.” Garrett bent down to look the boy in the eyes. He smiled calmly at him and directed a small bit of energy towards the black eye, “there now, much better. Can you tell me what you saw tonight?”

“I saw the lady, she was walking up to Hightown, but then this man stumbled into her and she fell. He laughed and she tried to help him up because he was acting like he was drunk or something.”

“What did this man look like?” Garrett felt a bit of relief that Leandra had been seen recently. There was still hope of saving her.

“I don’t know, he looked like a man, he was wearing nice clothes, I think. I couldn’t tell from the blood on them.” Blood, Garrett glanced at his brother, the two of them sharing a knowing look. Blood magic was at work here. The man could have used the blood to force Leandra to come with him. “Are you going to let me go now?”

“Here, take a few silvers, buy yourself some food and new shoes.” He handed the boy a small coin purse and shooed him. “Let’s find this bastard. Carver, do you see any sign of a trail?” Carver walked around and kept his eyes on the ground. He stopped a few feet from where the urchin had been standing and knelt down. He placed a finger to the ground and brought it up to his nose, the digit now smudged with dark liquid.

“Blood, it’s fresh too. It’s leading away from Hightown, follow me.” Carver followed the trail left by the blood mage. Small puddles of fresh blood dotted the streets every few meters or so. Garrett felt his stomach dropping out when he considered where such a large amount of blood had to come from. Was it his mother’s? Emeric’s? Some poor soul he didn’t even know? The trail led them through the main market area, passed the Hanged Man, and into the Foundry district. It led to the very same building that Garrett had found the bag of human remains all those years ago.

“Isn’t this the same place you found those bones?” Varric asked, readying his crossbow. Garrett just noded and ran up the steps and found the doors unlocked. Inside, there were no shades or demons awaiting him this time. Instead, there was a faint odor. He couldn’t rightly say what it was, only that it made him feel a bit sick. Carver continued to follow the trail which led them to a trapped door. It must have been where the killer had escaped to the first time.

The smell was stronger when they went through the trap door and found themselves underground. It mixed with the scent of sewage and filled his nose with a wet, pungent sensation. They found more blood as they entered the killer’s lair. They were met with a group of shades and rage demons when they entered the first chamber. Garrett and Anders concentrated on fighting the demons with ice spells. The demons radiated a hellfire heat that left them sweating in their thick robes. They screamed when the ice hit their flesh, freezing them solid. A stone fist smashed the frozen demons into tiny shards. Carver’s Templar training came in handy as he cleansed the room of dark energy and hit the shades with a Holy Smite. Shades, never very strong against Templar power, crumbled to ash. Those few that didn’t fall because of Carver’s Smite were hit with deadly accurate bolts from Varric.

“Mother!” Garrett saw a female body lying on it’s side near the wall. He turned it over, “Alessa,” he said, recognizing the woman from DuPuis’ mansion. The gray pallor of her skin and the rheumy white color of her eyes indicated she had been dead for at least several days now. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered as he shut her eyes, “I will make sure your family knows what happened.” The group continued further into the sewers, the stench now clearly that of rotting flesh. It became more potent the further in they went. Several times, one of them had to stop and gag. Garrett pulled up the scarf he was wearing to dampen the smell just a bit and resorted to breathing through his mouth to keep himself from vomiting. The rest followed suit, finding anything they had on their person to cover their noses.

Anders found something shiny on the floor. It was a locket, the same one he had seen Leandra wear everyday he had known her. He popped it open to reveal a small painted picture of her husband on one side and her three children on the other.

“That’s Mother’s” Carver said as he looked over the mage’s shoulder, “Father gave her that just before he got sick.”

“She’d never leave that behind intentionally, we have to hurry.” Garrett took the locket and pocketed it. The next room appeared to be a mix between a shrine and a bedroom, “someone actually lives down here?” They went through the papers that were covering the small desk at the center. It was covered in books and papers about necromancy and blood magic. There was a note from someone named ‘O’ who expressed interest into Quentin’s research, but cautioned him from crossing the Templars. It was old and dated several years back, so if ‘O’ knew what the research had produced was any man’s guess. Garrett was drawn away from the papers when he saw the picture mounted at the top of the shrine. “Who, who is that?”

“A sister? A wife perhaps,” Anders also took a look at the portrait, “is it just me, or does she look like Leandra?” The woman did have a similarity to Leandra. They had the same regal bearing, elegant nose, generous mouth, and kind eyes. They could have been sisters. Garrett turned away from the painting and continued on. He didn’t want to think of why there was a picture of a woman who so resembled his mother. He didn’t want to think about what this madman who wallowed in decay and filth would do to his Mother because of what she looked like. He barely heard his companions running behind him to catch up. He was aware of Anders keeping step with him, looking at himwith eyes full of concern. He ignored him though, he needed to focus on saving his family.

They came to the end of the passage to find a man in ragged, bloodstained robes hovering over a chair that was turned away from them. He was smiling, a sick, manic smile that promised terrible things.

“I was wondering when you’d show up. Leandra was so certain you’d come for her.” Garrett sheathed his staff and held up his hands in a sign of surrender. Carver and the others were stunned by his action, but kept quiet.

“Where is she?” Quentin stepped towards them, eyeing them all with arrogant contempt.

“You will never understand my purpose. Your mother was chosen because she was special. And now she is part of something greater.” Garrett was getting impatient. Another blood mage convinced of his own greatness. Hadn’t he dealt and killed enough of these people already for them to get the idea that blood magic always ended badly?

“Please, I don’t want to hurt you. I just want my Mother. Release her,” he stopped, pausing to wet his lips and forced himself to continue, “and I will let you go.” He didn’t want to let this monster go, but if it would save his mother, he would. Quentin didn’t appear to be phased at all by the young mage. He continued his monologue, walking back towards the chair as he spoke.

“She’s here, she’s waiting for you. I have done the impossible, I have touched the Face of the Maker and lived. Do you know what the strongest force in the universe is?” Quentin leaned over the chair and now Garrett could see that there was someone sitting in it. His heart sped up, “Love. I pieced her together from memory. I found her eyes, her skin, her delicate fingers. And at last, her face, oh this beautiful face. I searched far and wide to find you again beloved and no force on this earth will part us.” The person rose with jerky, uncoordinated movements and slowly faced them. Garrett’s eyes widened and he nearly screamed when he saw the abomination in front of him. It…it…it wasn’t human. Not anymore. It was stitched together from the parts of the many women Quentin had murdered over the years. Some pieces of the skin were more decayed then others, the fresher bits still had flecks of blood seeping from them. Worst of all, and the image that would haunt his nightmares for years to come, was his mother’s head sewn onto the neck of the thing. She had been decapitated and her head placed on that thing.

“Maker, no!” Garrett sobbed, realizing he was too late to save her. A hot, boiling rushed from his gut and surged to the forefront of his mind. Everything took on a red tone and Garrett couldn’t feel anything but the need to soak his hands in Quentin’s blood. Or better yet, rip out the bastard's throat with his own teeth. An angry, feral sound that was more at home in the throat of a wolf broke free of his throat and he charged at the blood mage. The mage raised an energy shield around himself and summoned an army of corpses to defend himself, but Garrett was undeterred. He smashed at the wall of energy, howling like a wounded animal.

“Garrett!” Anders shouted, terrified that his lover was leaving himself open to attack as he narrowed his focus on the man who had butchered his mother. Several arrows pierced through the padded robes and buried themselves in his skin, but he kept going. He couldn’t feel the pain of the arrows. He knew they were there, but the adrenaline and the anger kept him from feeling any pain. His companions were forced to kill the corpses and desire demons without any assistance from their leader. “What’s going on, what’s happened to him?”

“He’s gone into a Beserker mode,” Varric shouted over the din of the fight, “I didn’t know mages could go into a blood rage.” Varric had seen dwarven warriors go into a blood rage driven madness that was near unstoppable. They felt no pain even as their skin was sliced and bones broken. It was amazing and completely terrifying at the same time. He had never thought he would see Garrett go into such a state. The mage was so calm and too easy going, but everyone has their breaking point. Quentin had found Garrett’s the moment he murdered Leandra. 

In the red haze that had overtaken his mind, Garrett realized he had to wait out Quentin. The blood mage couldn’t maintain his shield forever. He stopped and waited for his shield to drop. When the last of the demons and corpses fell, Garrett charged the man with his staff. He didn’t bother to use his magic, he wanted this man to feel all the pain he had caused his victims. He skewered him though the belly with the long blade on the end of his staff. It went all the way through and out the back. Quentin just stared down, not able to comprehend that he was about to die. Garrett pulled the staff back and ran him through again in the chest. The blade pierced the heart and Quentin died as he spat up a mouthful of blood and pleural fluid. Garrett was still breathing hard as he came down from the rage. Pain started to creep in from the arrows embedded in his skin. He gave a small grunt of pain as he ripped them out one at a time. The pain seemed to anchor him back to reality, so he didn’t fight it. The thing that had Leandra’s head stumbled over to him.

“Mother,” he said as the thing fell at his feet. He caught and cradled her. Oh Maker, he could smell the rot on her. It looked up at him with her kind eyes, now recognizing him. Anders came to crouch down next to him. He wanted to heal his lover first, but Garrett wouldn’t have it. He reached out to feel the magics that were still present on Leandra. “Anders, please, do something.” Garrett pleaded, needing someone, anyone to make this right, “you can heal her, can’t you?”

“There’s nothing I can do, only his magic was keeping her alive.” Anders said sadly, wishing he could say otherwise, “I’m so sorry, Leandra. I’m sorry…I can’t fix this.” The gentle face smiled up at both of them. There was the Leandra that Anders had come to know and love in the brief time he had been in Kirkwall. Some part of her was still lingering to say goodbye.

“I knew you would come, my beautiful children.” Carver was on her other side, taking her hand in his. He was crying, a tear falling from his cheek to the white dress. “My sweet boys, all three.”

“Don’t move Mother, we’ll find a way…” Leandra shushed her eldest.

“Don’t fret my darling. That man would have kept me trapped down here, in the dark. But now,” her smile widened just a bit, “I’m free. I get to see your dear Father again and that isn’t such a terrible thing. I just worry for my babies,” her eyes connected with Anders’ “you’ll keep my boy safe, won’t you?”

“I will, I promise.” His voice shook as a tear fell from his eye. He hadn’t realized he too was crying. He had never lost someone he had come to love before. Not since he was a little boy. It was like losing his mother all over again.

“My little boys have become so strong. I love you, you’ve always made me so proud.” She gave a single, soft breath and then, she was gone. The body went limp in Garrett’s arms as the last spark of life that had been animating her was extinguished.


	23. She Lives in Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, much longer one coming up in the next day or so.

Unwilling to leave their mother in such a horrible place, Garrett took the yellowing sheets off the bed in Quentin's room and wrapped them around Leandra. With gentle care they carried Leandra’s body out of the sewers and into the cold lower levels of the estate cellar. The cool, dry atmosphere would prevent the body from decaying further as funerary preparations were made.  Carver returned to the Gallows to inform the Knight Captain of the events that had transpired. He didn’t speak or look at Anders, giving his older brother his undivided attention. Carver had been surprisingly kind to Garrett, promising that he would help with any and all arrangements that needed to be made. He would also send a message to his twin knowing she would take it better from him than Garrett. Brother, he had said before departing, you did your best and I’m here if you need me. Garrett had been unable to say anything to that. His heart clenched as a weak smile etched itself on his face as the young Templar left the estate.

They had taken the time to wash the dirt and blood from their bodies. It took several full pails of hot water to make a dent in the stench of damp rot that had saturated their skin and hair. The clothes were unsalvageable and set aside to be incinerated. Garrett didn’t stay to talk after he washed. He dressed in the first clean set of clothes he could find and left to go find speak with the Grand Cleric about arranging his mother’s funeral rites.

After cleaning up the mess in the washroom and informing Orana to lock up Lady Leandra’s room for the time being, Anders paced through the empty entry hall. Garrett should have been back by now. The Chantry was only a short walk from the house. Yes, he could imagine that Garrett would be taking his time in making such a request of the Grand Cleric. Burying a loved one and having to carry on without them...knowing that there would always be an emptiness in one's heart where once there was comfort. He could forgive the man his tardiness. Bodahn had left with his son Sandal to fetch a few things from the market and Orana was running a basket of food down to the Alienage for Merrill. It was just him and his thoughts now. He heard the estate door swing open, but was disappointed to see it was only Gamlen. Maker's Breath, did the man look bad. He'd been whetting his whistle at the Blooming Rose on his nephew's tab again. He was apparently the grieving drunk. Then again, when was the man ever sober? The balding man sneered at him as he noticed the mage's presence.

"Where's my nephew, the useless one, you know, Garrett." The man pulled a small, filthy wineskin from his jacket and emptied it in a single gulp. Anders felt the heat of anger rise up his neck. How dare Gamlen blame Garrett when he had done nothing to save his sister.

"At the Chantry, Gamlen," Anders refused to meet the man's eyes. Gamlen was a worthless little shit who had sold out his own family for money. The only thing keeping him from turning in his apostate nephew was the promise of his monthly stipend. "I don't think he'll be back for a while. You should go home and sleep it off." The older man snorted derisively. Still focusing on the flames, he heard Gamlen sidle up to him, his drunk, swaying body bumping his.

"You forget, boy, that this is my family's house. And you…" Gamlen now leaning on him, close enough for Anders to smell the sour wine on his breath, "you're just the trash my nephew dragged in." Anders' eyes flickered to the side, he could see the sloppy smile on the other man's face. Maker, he knew he had gotten under Anders' skin. It didn't matter that the older man was wearing little more than wine soaked rags and smelled of the Lowtown sewers while Anders wore a set of neat, clean tunic and pants made from Antivan cotton, he had won this little battle. "Won't be long before he tosses you right back out and your days of living off my family's name are through." Anders stifled a comment on his Warden stipend, it wasn't worth getting into a lengthy argument with the old man. The man was a loser and always looking to fight or blame others for his problems. He couldn’t blame his sister anymore or fight with her children right now, so Anders was a convenient target. "Nothing to say? Hmm?"

"No." The blonde clasped his hands tighter behind his back, trying to prevent himself from clocking Garrett's only remaining uncle in the jaw. Seeing the blonde would not rise to his baiting, Gamlen wandered off to find more wine in the cellar. Both men gave each other a wide berth as he passed. Now wasn't the time for violence anyway not when …

The door opened and shut again, this time he heard the clicking of claws. Archon walked up to him and gave him a friendly head butt to the hip. Breaking his own rule about not cuddling up to Garrett's dog, he reached down to give the beast an affectionate rub on the back. Garrett was not far behind, his steps sounded heavy and weary. Anders opened his arms, allowing him to take the next step if he wanted. He gave Anders a pensive look before stepping into the embrace of the other mage. He wrapped his strong arms around the taller man and gave a shuddering breath. He had been on the verge of weeping the entire walk home. Tears he had held back since the sewers came pouring down his cheeks, dampening Anders' tunic. Anders just held him tighter, allowing him to burrow deep into his arms. He rested his cheek on the soft black hair, stroking the back of Garrett's head as he did so.

"I'm so sorry, so sorry" he whispered over and over, "Leandra wouldn't want you to blame yourself." Garrett didn't respond, just kept asking him to promise he wasn't going to leave. Please, please, he begged in a muffled voice, don't go, don't leave me, stay at my side. Anders pressed a kiss to the top of his love's head, "Never, liebling, never." Maker, he hoped he was able to keep that promise. He wished he could say something, anything that would heal the gaping wound in Garrett’s heart. But there were some wounds that not even the most gifted healer can fix. “Hush liebe, I’m here.” They stayed like that for a bit, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms for a time. Both mourning mothers taken before their time.

After a while, Anders could feel the strength that had kept Garrett going leaving him. He must have been exhausted physically and emotionally. He would have to get some sleep. Garrett at first resisted having to move from Anders’ arms. He continued to hold onto him even when Anders’ let him go. Gentle prodding got him to release his tight grip and take Anders’ hand. He let Anders guide him up to their room. He paused for a moment at the door to Leandra’s room, touching the door knob with his free hand, but not daring to go inside. With a small tug, he allowed himself to be led into their bedroom and laid down on the soft bed. Anders curled up behind him, grateful for his long limbs as he wrapped them around the shorter man. Garrett was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow and Anders didn’t take long to follow him into the Fade.

~~

Garrett had decided to hold the funeral outside the city away from gawkers and gossipers. Leandra’s death had been terrible enough without people staring and whispering behind her children’s backs. He and his brother Carver had agreed to do it beside the sea on the Wounded Coast. Leandra had always loved the ocean and it seemed a fitting place. They could scatter her ashes to the winds and surf after the ceremony. Just as they had done with Malcolm’s in Ferelden.

A kindly mother from the Chantry agreed to do the ceremony outside the city walls despite Elthina’s initial protests about proper funerals being done inside a sanctuary. She was already waiting for them with her Templar escort when the party arrived. Most were Garrett’s friends that Anders had come to know over the last few months. He saw how each of them had deviated from their normal wear to somber black conservative clothing. Even Isabela barely showed any of her ample cleavage. As she came up to greet Anders, he could see that her eyes were tinged red at the edges, suggesting she had been crying earlier.

“Isabela,” Anders gave her a smile and was surprised to find her wrapping her arms around him. Outside of sex and flirting, Isabela was not a tactile person. At a loss for words, he patted her back.

“Hello sweet thing,” she gave him a peck on the cheek, “how’s our dear Hawke, I haven’t seen him since ….,” she stopped, “I haven’t seen him for a few days. Is he holding up?”

“I don’t know,” Anders admitted, “we haven’t talked since he made the funeral arrangements.” Isabela gave him a kind look. He had hated to even think about it, but he was afraid that Garrett was pushing him away again. Garrett had been distraught and broken when he had come home from the Chantry, crying in his arms till he fell asleep. When Anders had woken up in the morning, Garrett was already up and dressed. He had been sitting on the edge of the bed staring into the dying coals of the hearth. When Anders had tried to comfort him by hugging him from behind Garrett had squirmed out of his arms. He had been hurt when his lover rejected the comfort he had offered. Garrett had apologized for it, but he didn’t seek to return his affections either. Garrett had told him he needed some time to himself and had left to go spend a few days outside the city getting everything ready. That had been four days ago.

“I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you,” Isabela said, “I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is paying attention. Almost makes me jealous.” She linked arms with the blonde mage, “now let’s get this over with. All this sadness makes me thirsty.” The two of them took a place in the gathering ring of people that surrounded the empty wood pyre Garrett had set up. Varric was standing next to Merrill and Fenris, both elves looking quite out of place with the small number of human nobles that had been allowed to show up and pay their respects to the last daughter of the Amell family. Among them was the Comte du Lancet and his wife, Ione Reinhart who was the second daughter of the Reinhart family, Seneschal Bran, and a few that Anders had never seen before. Gamlen was surprisingly sober and polite enough to keep his distance from his nephew’s partner.

A few minutes later a young sister of the Chantry began singing a traditional funerary song as Garrett and Carver came carrying the simple pine box that held their mother’s shrouded remains. Both young men were wearing almost identical black shirts and tunics with the Amell crest in white rather than traditional red. Their heads were bowed as they silently carried their mother to the pyre. They lifted her body onto the pyre and each took a spot near the revered mother.  The revered mother blessed what was left of the mortal remains of Leandra Amell Hawke and commended her spirit to the Maker. She prayed that she would have peace in the next life with her god and her beloved husband Malcolm. A torch was then passed to each of her sons. They took a place at her head and feet. As the eldest child, Garrett stood at her head. He lowered his torch to the dry kindling and it gave a small whoosh as it quickly caught fire. Carver then lowered his torch at her feet. The dry wood burned bright and soon the whole pyre was consumed in bright orange-red flame. Garrett had likely added an accelerant to the wood. It didn’t take long for everything to turn to ashes.

When the fire started to die, people began taking their leave. Some stopped and gave condolences to the brothers. Some with empty words of faked kindness and some with genuine concern. One of the mother’s guards gathered up the cooling ashes for the family as the revered mother took the time to offer a few words of gentle encouragement. The ashes were collected in a simple gray urn no larger than a jar of preservatives. It seemed strange that a whole life could be contained in such a small vessel, all memories, moments, tucked away forever. Garrett took possession of the urn and thanked the mother for her kind words. The brothers planned to scatter her ashes later once all the visitors and well-wishers had left.

Isabela said a few quiet words to Garrett before taking her leave, telling him something along the lines of at least Leandra had loved him, or so Anders thought he heard. Then it was just the three of them, Garrett, Carver, and Anders.

“Hello love,” Anders said, unsure of how to proceed. It had been a long four days without Garrett and he didn’t want to do anything that would send him running off in the other direction. The other mage handed the urn to his brother before coming closer and hugging the blonde. Anders let out an inaudible sigh of relief and tightened his own embrace. “I missed you,” he whispered into the dark hair, reaching up to cup the back of the other man’s head.

“I missed you too.” Garrett replied as they pulled back, “I’m sorry for leaving, but I needed some time to think about things. I couldn’t do that in a place that reminded me so much of her.” He rubbed at the dark circles under his eyes before continuing, “I was just so angry, at Quentin for killing her, Gamlen for making her go to Lowtown to see him, and me for not protecting her. I should have been there, Anders, I should have kept her safe. I…” his voice cracked a bit, “promised Father on his death bed I would keep our family safe. And I failed. Again. First Beth and now Mother. I failed them, I failed Father.”

“Stop,” the word came out harsher than intended, but it did the trick. Garrett’s teeth clacked together as he shut his mouth. “Stop blaming yourself, you did everything you could to save her. Blame Quentin or Gamlen, both maybe, but not yourself. Never yourself.” Garrett didn’t respond immediately, his mouth opening and shutting a few times before he could find the right words.

“I don’t know if I can do that, not right now anyway.” He shut his eyes and let out a deep breath, “I’ll try, but, I make no promises.”

“That’s all I can ask then.” It wasn’t quite what Anders wanted, but it was a start. The three men didn’t linger long on the seaside cliffs. Garrett took the urn back from his brother and opened the vessel. With a silent prayer, he turned it upside down and let the ashes float away to the ocean below the cliffs. The last mortal pieces of Leandra were free to ride the waves and winds, never to be bound in any dark place ever again. As they watched her ashes fly away, Anders was reminded of a small Orlesian poem he had once read in the tower :

_O’ serenity, it shines from her face_

_Her smile, full of perfect grace_

_She lives forever in the starlight_

_In all the beauty of dark and bright_

_How dulled the world since she went_

_But forget not the joyous days spent._

None of them could see or hear her anymore, but Leandra would live on their memories and watch over them from the Maker’s side far beyond the light of the stars.

 

Note: Suggested song for listening to while reading is _Can’t Find my Way Home_ by Blind Faith (1969). The lyric ‘Somebody must change. You are the reason I've been waiting all these years’ fits the mood of this story perfectly.


	24. Ash in the Sun

_** Oh, Grey Warden, ** _

_**What have you done?** _   
_**The oath you have taken** _   
_**Is all but broken.** _

_**All is undone.** _   
_**Demons have come** _   
_**To destroy this peace** _   
_**We have had for so long.** _

_**Ally or Foe?** _   
_**Maker only knows.** _   
_**Ally or Foe?** _   
_**The Maker only knows.** _

_**The stronghold lives on,** _   
_**And the army's reborn,** _   
_**Compelled to forge on.** _   
_**What will we become?** _

_**Can you be forgiven** _   
_**When the cold grave has come?** _

_**Or will you have won** _   
_**Or will battle rage on?** _

_**Oh, Grey Warden,** _   
_**What have you done?** _   
_**The oath you have taken** _   
_**Is all but broken.** _

_**All is undone.** _   
_**Ash in the sun,** _   
_**Cast into Darkness** _   
_**The light we had won.** _

**\- Oh, Grey Warden - As performed by Bard Maryden Halewell**

Life continued on after Leandra’s funeral. To Garrett’s surprised delight, Carver stayed at the Amell estate for a few days afterward to help his brother deal with the stream of people that stopped by. Some were family friends who wished to offer their sincere sympathies, but most were bored noblewomen attempting to get some juicy tidbit for their gossip. A short dwarf footman wasn’t much of a deterrent, but a scowling young man in full Templar armor was enough to send the bravest ones scurrying home.

During their time together, Garrett found himself feeling proud of the man his brother was becoming. They hadn’t spoken much over the past two years beside the occasional family dinner. An exasperated Leandra had played the part of mediator when the arguments went beyond a few snippy comments from Carver or her eldest started to turn grind his teeth at the suggestion of the Circle being a good thing. Carver didn’t always provoke his big brother intentionally, but he could sometimes forget Garrett’s deeply ingrained fear of being dragged back into the Circle. While Carver would likely be demoted or at worst expelled from the order for his part in hiding his brother, Garrett would not be so fortunate. He would most likely be executed as a maleficar or worse, made Tranquil as a warning to future escapees. So even as the logical part knew it was unlikely for his brother to betray him as they would both suffer dearly, the instinctive animal part of his brain that had kept him alive in many a dangerous situation took control in those moments. In those moments, the calm thoughtful demeanor of a gentleman that he had carefully cultivated over the years was replaced with the angry, distrustful one of the escaped apostate. He always regretted the sharp barbs he tossed at his brother, but his pride kept him from saying so.

His mother had never doubted her younger son’s loyalty to his family and had often chided him about his lack of faith. Carver could be petulant, yes, but he had always done what was best for his family. Despite his talent with a sword, he had kept his head down for years to prevent attracting attention to a household full of mages. Now, Garrett wished he had listened to her, there were so many opportunities for them to act as a family that they had missed because of the brothers’ mutual stubbornness.

Before he had left for the Deep Roads, Garrett had been worried about the anger and restlessness that had filled Carver. In Ferelden, he had been in the King’s army. For the first time in his life, he had felt special, important. He was no longer the lone blade in a house of mages, but a comrade in arms. The happiness didn’t last long. With the defeat at Ostagar, he had been forced to leave that life behind on the battlefield with the bodies of his fallen brothers and sisters. He was lost in Kirkwall. He wasn’t a soldier anymore and hadn’t been able to join the city guard.

When Garrett had assembled his team for the Deep Roads, he had left his brother behind for two reasons. The first, he wanted someone he could trust watching over their mother. The second, Carver’s temper had been more sporadic than usual. He had been flying off the handle more and more frequently. Garrett didn’t want to deal with a wild card down in the Deep. The trip would be difficult enough without that factor.

Looking back, perhaps it had all been for the best. Carver had been furious, but it had given him the motivation to go do something with his life. It wasn’t the choice Garrett would have hoped for, but it was better than becoming like Gamlen, an angry drunk who blamed everyone else for his problems. And the time away had been good for Carver. He was a calmer, more thoughtful person now. He still had a temper, but he had learned to rein it in. When Garrett had told him how proud he was of him and how their parents would be too, Carver had been stunned:

“I, I’m not sure what to say.”

“How about thanks?” Garrett laughed, pleased he had temporarily stunned his brother. Carver snorted at him, but mumbled a thanks anyway.

“I’m not sure how Father would feel about all this, he was always so worried about the Templars dragging you and Beth away.” Carver sighed, he had always felt like the oddball of the children, being the only one born without any magical talent. Their Father had loved them all equally, but he been forced to focus more of his attention to his other children to help them learn control over their gifts.

“You forget your namesake. Without Ser Maurevar, Father would never have been able to marry Mother. I imagine he’d think you’d be doing the name justice.” The two brothers had not engaged in such peaceful conversation in years. Their mother would have been proud of them. “You have to return soon?”

“Afraid so, I’ve been away for over a week. I need to get back to my duties or the Knight Commander will drag me back herself. Be thankful you’ve never had to meet her, she scares the piss right out of most recruits.” Garrett agreed. He’d seen her a few times at a distance as she made trips to the Chantry or the Keep. He never approached her, fearing that she might be able to sense his magic if they were to come in contact. He had also made a point of avoiding the Gallows for the most part. The only exception being he stopped by occasionally to see Alain.

Aeryn had initially been assisting him with his research into spirit possession, but had suddenly stopped helping him shortly before his mother had died. She wouldn’t give him any reason why and had taken to avoiding him whenever he stopped by. If not worried about attracting unwanted attention, he would have made more of an effort to see her. Alain had seen his frustration and talked with him after he had failed to see Aeryn for the third time. Alain was not an expert in spirit magic, but he was very good at research. He had found a few ancient tomes that mentioned spirit possession and the effects of the spirit on their hosts. They didn’t have anything about how to safely remove them without killing their hosts, but it was a step in the right direction. Garrett felt a bit guilty about not telling Anders about his research into spirits. He had considered telling him before the confrontation with DuPuis, but had decided that Anders might think he was afraid of him. He had already done enough damage by avoiding him in those first days after his mother’s death.

“Brother, I…” Carver said, chewing his lower lip as he considered his words. The last week, he had felt uneasy about the life his brother was trying to lead. The whole of Kirkwall had eyes on him, watching and waiting to see what he would do next. Not a very safe position for an apostate to be in. His public relationship with a known mage, even if he was a Grey Warden, could bring everything crashing down around him if Meredith started sniffing about in earnest. “I think you should be more careful. You’re a very public figure these days, you never know who might be watching.”

“Should I be concerned about Meredith?” His brother’s warning sent a sharp shiver of fear down his spine, “does she suspect anything?”

“Not that I know of, but she does seem to be aware of your feelings towards mages. It’s not hard for her to guess when the whole city knows about you shacking up with Anders. Honestly, a part of me thinks you would smarter if you ended things with him.” A scowl crossed Garrett’s face, “I mean no offense, really. I just think you need to be more cautious is all. You’re not that only one who made a promise to Father to keep the family safe.” Garrett’s eyes softened and the anger that had started to build in his belly cooled.

“I understand, you have my best interests at heart.” Carver nodded, “but I can't. I could no sooner part with Anders than my own heart. It would kill me to lose him again.” Whether to the Taint or the Templars, losing his love would end him. Some people could survive the loss of their dearest one, even live on for decades afterwards. Garrett was not one of them. Not after finally having his heart’s deepest desire granted.

“I hope you’re wrong brother,” Carver said, a heavy weight in his throat, “we both know that the life of a Warden is a hard one, and usually a short one. I know Beth got a reprieve from death by joining the Wardens, but it’s just delaying the inevitable a little longer. At best, we’ve got twenty years with them. Five years ago, one maybe, I would have thought that meant we’d have forever. But it’s not. It’s all over before you can even blink. I thought Mother would be with us forever, but she’s gone. They’ll be gone soon too. Then it’s just us.” The younger man’s voice cracked a bit, “I like to take comfort that we’ll have each other when the inevitable comes. But if you die, then I’m alone.” Garrett swallowed, a heavy lump rising in his throat. He and Grief were old acquaintances, but the silent encounters were never easy.

“Everything comes to an end Carver, it’s part of being alive.” Garrett sighed, feeling a twinge in his back, a timely reminder of his own mortality. Pain, sorrow, confusion, all the things his brother felt were just part of being a mortal. “Remember what Sister Mallory told us when Father died, ‘the Maker gave us sadness and hurt so we would truly appreciate the gifts he gave us.’ I thought it was rubbish then, but after the last few years, I’ve seen how right she was. It makes me all the sorrier it took Mother’s death for us to reconcile.”

“Me too,” Carver whispered, “we were both too thick headed. We have a lot of time to make up for. If you’d like to that is.” Garrett smiled.

“I’d like that very much.”

“Good, that’s good. Very good actually. I should go though, I need to speak with the Knight Captain about Quentin. That could take a while.”

“Then I won’t keep you. Be safe brother, and come back soon.” The brothers embraced. Carver gave his big brother a small smile before he took his leave. Garrett sighed and felt a heavy weight leave his chest. Carver would be fine. The wide gap that had separated them for so long had gotten a little smaller. They still had their troubles, but they had learned they could move past them.

“He’s a good man, your brother.” Anders descended down the stairs from the mezzanine as the front door clicked shut. He had decided to give the Hawke brothers a little privacy to say their good byes. He and Carver were not overly fond of each other, but both loved Garrett without reservation. He could tolerate him for that. “Even if he is a Templar.”

“He grew up around mages, so he knows we’re not the raving abominations the Knight Commander would make us out to be. He may not always agree with mages, but he’s willing to listen.” Carver and Anders had argued a bit about mage rights during his stay at the Amell estate. It hadn’t escalated beyond some yelling, but it was clear the two weren’t thrilled about spending extended amounts of time together. In one spectacular instance their words had gone from near yells to sharp, vicious whispers. Garrett hadn’t been able to hear the whole of what was said through the thick doors to the study, but he had caught tidbits, most about Garrett’s safety and perhaps misplaced trust. Garrett had nearly intervened when Carver stomped out of the room. His face was beet red and he looked like he wanted to hit something. He didn’t say a word as he left the estate to cool off. When Garrett had attempted to ask what had happened, Anders had tried to shrug it off as nothing but another disagreement about mages. Garrett had known he wasn’t telling him something, but didn’t push it. Carver and Anders hadn’t spoken a word to each other for the rest of the day, but seemed to have made some form of reconciliation by the following evening, if only to stop Garrett from tugging his beard off in frustration at their behavior.

“Already makes him better than most. I’m glad to see you two getting along, Leandra would be proud of you two.”

“Three,” Garrett corrected, “she would be proud of all of us.” He noticed that Anders was wearing his Warden blue and grey robes, “I haven’t seen you in those since you came back to Kirkwall. Going somewhere?”

“Just got a message from Stroud,” Anders held up a scroll with a broken blue wax seal, “he’s headed to Ansburg and wanted to pass on a letter from the Commander.”

“Getting all dressed up for another man,” Garrett teased, “I’m a little jealous.”

“He’s Orlesian, very Orlesian.” Anders stressed the word with a very proper accent, eliciting a small chuckle from his love, “I don’t feel up to a three hour lecture about the uniform. I want to get the letter and come back home as soon as possible.” The first time the two had met Anders had been wearing his Tevinter style robes. Stroud had given him a rather nasty look and had been ready to deliver some stern words if the Commander hadn’t been there to distract the other Warden. Besides, he had more incentive to keep his meeting brief now that he had a home to return to. It wasn’t the large estate as much as the handsome, slightly scruffy Ferelden mage that made it so.

“Maker save us from cranky Orlesians then. I have some things to take care of here. I’ll see you later, sweetheart.” Garrett pressed a kiss to the corner of Anders’ mouth before the blonde headed out the door. He had a few matters he needed to take care of that he had been putting off. While Varric had taken temporary control of some of his business affairs while he had been in mourning. He had only just settled down to go through his books when he heard the front door bang open and two angry familiar female voices caught his attention. Isabela and Aveline were having yet another of their famous rows in his house. Maker, he loved those two but they could drive him mad.  And by the end of that little conversation, he was contemplating killing at least one of them.

 ~~

Anders had waited for Stroud to meet him at the Hanged Man for almost an hour before the other Warden appeared. Stroud had been looking around nervously as he came to sit down at the bar next to Anders. There were three other Wardens with him, but they kept their helmets on and had taken a post near the doors. To his disappointment none of them were Nate or Bethany. They must have been sent ahead to the compound in Ansburg.

“Everything alright Stroud,” Anders asked as he finished off the rat flavored whiskey the tavern was so well known for, “your backup seems a bit twitchy.” The Orlesian didn’t answer him, rather ordering a mug of Corff’s strongest brew. He handed over a copper to the bartender and swallowed it all down in one gulp. To Anders’ surprise he proceeded to order another for himself and Anders. “Ok, you’re being nice to me. Now I know something is wrong.”

“Hmpf.” Stroud wiped his lips with the back of his hand in a display of Non-Orlesian messiness, “the air in this city is rife with tension. I can feel something coming, I don’t know what it is and it’s driving me mad. I haven’t felt anything like this since the Blight ended.”

“I think that’s just how this place is. Between the Qunari and the Templars, everyone is holding their breath since the Viscount’s recently converted son was murdered by a Chantry sister. It’s going to be bad, whatever happens next.” Stroud nodded and took more time on his second drink.

“I fear you are right, something terrible is coming. The whole of Thedas is watching this city. It could be the start of another war between them and the Qunari. It would not end well for any of us if the Qunari were to take up arms again. They only gave peace the first time because they were tired of fighting all the nations. With the magisters putting aside their petty squabbles and uniting against them, they needed to consolidate their forces to keep the Imperium from retaking Seheron." Pausing for a moment, Stroud set aside his mug and rested his elbows on the rough wood bar. "The Qunari are not like us, they revel in the glory of battle and bloodshed. For them, it is an honor to shed their blood and slaughter their enemies in the name of the Qun. I have no doubt their leaders must be hungry for battle by now.” A tightness knotted itself in Anders’ chest. He had no doubt that should such a thing come to pass. If such a day came, Garrett would run headlong into battle to protect his home and kin.

“And what would the Warden’s role be in such a conflict?” Anders already knew the answer, but a part of him wanted to hear the other man say it.

“Why do you ask such a ridiculous question? You know the Order does not involve itself in politics. We fight the darkspawn and kill the Archdemon, we do not fight the nations of men, elves, dwarves, or Qunari. It is how our order has survived the centuries.” Anders wanted to snarl at the hypocrisy. He had grown up in the Anderfells, he knew how the First Warden had managed to control the nation from behind the scenes.

“It seems like cowardice to me.”

“Because you are only seeing a small part of the whole. What good does it do our Order to fight the wars of nations? We must remain neutral to maintain our allies for the Blights. If they believe us to be politically motivated, they will not trust us with their armies when we call on them.” Stroud’s face softened a bit, “I know it is hard, brother, to set yourself apart from the conflicts. I felt much the same when I first joined the Wardens. My family was in the midst of a conflict with another family who had gained the Emperor’s favor by treachery and a few well-placed bribes. I thought I could use my influence as a Warden to help, but I only made it worse.” Stroud ran a hand through his silvering hair as old memories were dredged up by the whiskey, “the Emperor was already a paranoid bastard in his later years, and the thought that the Grey Wardens might remove him was not far-fetched for his age addled mind. Not with King Maric’s open friendliness towards the Order. A bard intercepted a letter I had written to my family from my new post in Jader. I made the foolish mistake of mentioning the Order’s influence in Ferelden and the Anderfels. Florian used it as evidence against them. He condemned my parents and my eldest brother to death for conspiring against him with a foreign entity. He had them publically executed in Montsimmard as a warning to any who thought to try the same.” They sat in silence for several long minutes. Anders wasn’t sure what he could or should say to the senior Warden. He had always seen Stroud as a bit of a prick, but now… Maker, he would never have guessed Stroud had been so rebellious or that it would have ended so terribly. No wonder the sod was a stickler for rules and regulations.

“Stroud, I..uh, sorry. I didn’t know about your family.”

“Most people don’t. I prefer it that way. People tend to pity you when they hear stories like that. It’s rather irritating when they do.” Anders could agree with that, people’s pity was usually quite annoying. “Here, your Commander was quite insistent that you receive this with all haste.” A scroll with a sloppy wax seal was pressed into his hands. He decided he would read it later in the privacy of the estate.

“Thanks, anything else?”

“Do you have a copy of the map? The one of the Thaig?” Anders swallowed the last dregs of his drink and removed a folded piece of paper from a concealed pocket within his robe. He had copied it from Bartrand’s map several nights ago after Garrett had fallen asleep. He had felt guilty about the secrecy of it all. The Commander had asked for him to send a copy with Stroud when the Warden passed through and to not tell anyone. The First Warden had been putting the pressure on Aedan for months now, sending subtle and not so subtle threats about disobeying the big bosses. Giving the First Warden and his minions this juicy secret would make them back off, for a time.

As much as both men hated giving into the First, something good could come of this arrangement. The Thaig could hold answers to the origin of the darkspawn and that could not be taken away by random treasure hunters. He had managed to finish copying it before Carver had unexpectedly come into the study. He had hidden his draft inside the folds of the robe he had been wearing and stuffed the map back into the stiff binder Garrett had been keeping it in. Carver had given him a strange look, but hadn’t questioned him on what he was doing up so late. He had forced himself to slowly walk back to his room to avoid any suspicion on Carver’s part even as he wanted nothing more than to dash back to Garrett’s side. He was relieved to see Garrett still out cold as he shed his robe and climbed back into bed. Garrett had almost woken as Anders wrapped himself around the sleeping man, snuffling a bit as Anders laid his head on his chest. He had whispered a silent apology into his love’s chest, barely able to sleep even as exhaustion was tugging at his eyes.

“Are you certain we couldn’t tell anyone outside the order about this? Since Garrett was the one who found it, I thought..”

“No one can know. Not even Hawke. This comes from the First Warden himself, he doesn’t want any interference from anyone. Hawke might be a good man, but there are powerful eyes on him. We can’t risk him accidentally alerting them.” The finality in Stroud’s voice told Anders that there would be no further discussion on the matter. Stroud didn’t stay much longer. He paid his tab and informed Anders that he would be leaving at dawn the next day. After a few words about the importance of duty before all else Stroud left to take care of a few things in another part of the city. Anders was not terribly upset to see him go. He could understand Stroud a bit better, respect him a little more, but he still didn’t like him. The man had forced him to keep a secret from Garrett and was potentially involving him in unsavory Warden politics. He didn’t feel like going home and having to look Garrett in the eye and lie about what he and Stroud had discussed. Instead, he ordered another drink and drank it slowly to kill some time.

“Blondie?” He nearly jumped out of his skin as Varric appeared beside him. For a dwarf, Varric was unnaturally silent. “Everything ok?”

“Yes, fine, it’s all…fine.” Varric wasn’t fooled and sat on the bar stool next to him.

“You’re a terrible liar Blondie. You look like you’re ready to dive head first into your beer. Wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with that other Warden you were talking with?” Anders felt his heart speed up a bit, but kept his eyes turned down into his cup, “thought so. What’s going on Blondie?”

“Warden business. Can’t say anything more Varric, the First Warden has ordered tight lips on it.” Varric gave a little huff at his answer.

“Wild guess, but it has something to do with that map you gave Stroud? The one of the old Thaig?” Anders nearly dropped his cup and turned to Varric with wide eyes. “Yea, I saw it. It’s a pretty good copy of the one that’s sitting in Hawke’s study. Not quite as neat, but not bad for an amateur.”

“So you saw that then.” Anders said in a dry voice, not sure what to expect next. Varric might be friendly to him, but he was Garrett’s closest friend. Varric cared for Garrett like brother and would do most anything to protect him.

“I did. Care to tell me why you gave that map to Stroud? I don’t want to tell Hawke you’ve pulled that little stunt behind his back. It’ll hurt him, but I won’t hesitate to do what needs to be done.” What needs to be done could have been anything from talking to Garrett to shooting a bolt into Anders’ eye.

“I want to Varric, please believe me. But I can’t. I took a vow when I joined the Order and part of that vow involved keeping the Order’s secrets. I’ve already broken it once by telling Garrett the true reason Wardens can sense darkspawn.” Varric gave a sad sigh and shook his head.

“I do believe you Blondie, but my loyalty is to Hawke not the Wardens. Hawke deserves the truth and you know it. If you love him even half as much I think you do, you’ll tell him everything.” Varric turned to leave and gave one final warning, “if you don’t tell him soon, I will.”

~~

Garrett was cursing his bad luck as he stood over the dead body of Wall-Eyed Sam. Isabela had gotten what she had come for and scurried off to Maker knows where. He had hoped to convince Isabela to give him the Tome of Koslun so that the Arishok might be appeased and finally leave the city. Isabela hadn’t wanted to do it, but had agreed that it was probably the best thing to do. Aveline had wanted to strangle the pirate with her bare hands when Isabela had confessed to her part in the prolonged Qunari occupation, but Garrett had managed to get them both on the same page and focus on getting the relic.

The warehouse had been a trap set up by Tevinter magisters who had intended to steal the book and claim a symbolic victory over the Qunari. A group of Qunari had shown up and turned on Hawke’s group when they suspected them of cooperating with the enemy. Isabela had run off before the fight to catch Sam and left Hawke, Aveline and Merrill to fend for themselves. Hawke had shouted after her to come back, but she had ignored his pleas and abandoned him.

The anger of her betrayal fueled his magic as he unleashed a firestorm on both the Qunari and the Tevinters. Aveline and Merrill were smart enough to get out of the way and take care of the stragglers on the upper level of the warehouse. He felt a dark thrill of satisfaction as both Qunari and Tevinter burned away before his eyes. It was better to take out his wrath on them than bottle it up and lash out later at someone else. When all the enemy combatants had fallen, Garett had run out of the warehouse to see if Isabela was anywhere nearby. He had called her name and pleaded for her to come back. She had left him a note on Sam’s corpse that told him she had recovered the book and was leaving Kirkwall to save her own skin. She was sorry, but she had to think of her own survival.

“We should have seen this coming. Pirates only ever think of themselves.” Aveline hid her own disappointment with hard words. “What do we do now Hawke? Without the book, the Qunari will never leave. This was our only chance to make peace with them.”

“I don’t know Aveline, I’m sorry I put you in this position. If I had kept a better eye on her or gotten to Sam first, maybe we could have fixed everything. It’s my fault. I’ll take the blame.” Aveline scowled and shook her head. She sheathed her sword and shield to free her hands. With tender hands, she cupped her dear friend’s face.

“This is not your fault Hawke. Isabela is the one to blame, not you. We’ll go to the Arishok and you do your thing. He listens to you, I think he even respects you. You might still be able to save this city if we work together.” Aveline’s face was kind and warm, proving her soft heart beneath the battle axe exterior. Garrett was humbled, as always, by her faith in him. Merrill was nodding in agreement with Aveline.

“She’s right Hawke. If anyone can fix this, it’s you. And we’re with you no matter what.” Garrett smiled at his friends and felt himself straighten up. He could do this. He would do this.

“I guess we had better see the Arishok then. The sooner we take care of this, the better. Maker, help us all.” They hurried to the docks where a large crowd had gathered outside the compound. The people were getting restless as the gates remained locked and no outsiders were permitted in. A handful of Aveline’s guardsmen were waiting for them when they arrived. One of them, a young woman with short brown hair greeted them.

“Captain Aveline, thank the Maker you’re here. We weren’t sure the Qunari would wait much longer.” Aveline thanked her and walked over to the gate keeper to let them know they were ready to speak with the Arishok. The Qunari only looked at Hawke, ignoring the rest of the humans. He gave a slight nod and stepped aside to let them in. Hawke fell into step Aveline with Merrill and the other guards a step behind. The air in the compound was tense, more so than Hawke had ever felt before. The Qunari were stalking about the area like large wild cats that were ready to pounce on the nearest slice of raw, bloody meat. The Arishok was sharpening one of his large axes when they entered. He sheathed it and walked down from his pedestal to speak to Garrett.

“Shanedan Hawke.”

“Greetings Arishok,” Aveline began as she and Garrett gave a slight bow, but kept their eyes locked with the Arishok’s. “We’ve come to discuss the state of the two fugitive elves that took refuge here.” The Arishok did not appear concerned about potentially violating the city laws.

“Irrelevant. I would speak to Hawke about the relic stolen from my grasp.” Garrett could feel the hairs on the back of his standing on end as the deep black eyes bore into him. The Arishok did not expect much from one that did not follow the Qun. He was likely expecting to be lied to about the relic’s whereabouts.

“It would seem that one of my former companions has made off with your relic. I attempted to recover it in an attempt to set things right, but was tricked by a pirate.” The Arishok raised an eyebrow.

“The circumstances of the relic’s disappearance are not unknown to us, but your admission is…unexpected.”

“An issue for another time perhaps. We’re here for the fugitives.” Aveline pressed further for the return of the criminals.

“The elves are viddathari. They have chosen to submit to the Qun. They will be protected.” Hawke could already feel the sand sliding away beneath their feet. This meeting was going horribly wrong. The Arishok would not likely be persuaded to release the elves to Aveline’s custody.

“Have they truly converted? Or are they just using you as a shield?” Hawke kept his voice even and tried not to envision all the ways that this meeting could get worse.

“They have chosen, and so have I. You have not hidden the abuses of your zealots or the treachery of this city. You will understand why I must do this. Let us look at your dangerous criminals.” Two elves flanked by a pair of Qunari warriors stepped forward. They were so young, barely more than children. They did not have the cold eyes that Garrett often saw in the faces of so many other criminals. The eyes spoke not of cruelty or malice, but sorrow and betrayal. “Speak viddathari, who did you murder and why?”

“A city guard forced himself on our sister. We reported him or tried to. But they did nothing about it no matter what we said. So my brother and I paid him a visit.” Garrett’s stomach twisted in disgust at the thought of the poor girl’s suffering.

“That doesn’t excuse murder.” Aveline said, her voice still calm and in control. Garrett was a bit surprised at her tone. Had she known about the assault?

“Aveline, are these elves telling the truth?” He wanted it to be wrong, he wanted Aveline to tell him that there was no basis for this accusation and that she would never allow such things to occur on her watch. She looked at him and dropped her eyes.

“There have been rumors. I will investigate, but they still took the law into their own hands.”

“Sometimes that is necessary.” The Arishok declared, not caring if his statement was in contrast to the laws of men.

“Like you avenged the Viscount’s son? It wasn’t right then and it’s not right now.” Aveline retorted. Garrett could sense that he and Aveline would have a bit to talk about once this was all over.

“I would have done the same thing if it were my sister.” Garrett told the elven boys, letting them know he understood a brother’s responsibility to his sister.  “I would not allow the man who touched her to draw one more breath if I had the choice.” Aveline glowered at him and commanded him to be silent. The elves nodded in agreement and the Arishok did not appear displeased with his answer.

“You understand truth, Hawke. You see the disease that plagues this city. This city has denied them choice. Now, they have chosen. They have submitted and become viddarthari. They have submitted to the Qun and found a path that your city denied them.”  The Arishok loomed over Aveline and Garrett for a moment before drawing back and resuming his previous pacing.

“You can’t just do that.” Aveline insisted, “you have to hand them over.” The Arishok was no longer even giving her the benefit of his attention. Instead, he focused only on Garrett.

“Tell me Hawke, what would you do in my place.” Garrett knew the answer would not please Aveline, but he couldn’t lie to the Arishok.

“They deserve another chance.”

“Exactly so. I cannot leave without the relic and I cannot stay and remain blind to this city’s dysfunction. There is only one solution.” Cold sweat was trickling down the neck of every human in the compound. The Arishok, had he just declared war? No, no there must be some misunderstanding. Surely…

“Arishok, there is no need for…”The Arishok raised a hand to cut Aveline off and walked away.

“Vinek kathas.” The Arishok ordered and walked back up to his throne. Aveline glanced over at Hawke, unsure what was coming, but was not expecting an easy way out. Hawke looked up at the tops of the walls. The Qunari had finished sharpening their weapons and were now crouching as they prepared to throw their long spears.

“Look out!” Garrett cried as he drew out his staff. He was able to block two that were aimed at him. Others of their party were not so lucky. Three of Aveline’s guards dropped dead as they were impaled. The survivors were forced to retreat back to the gate, Aveline taking down two of the Qunari that had been standing near the entrance. Garrett wanted to keep fighting, to avenge Aveline’s fallen people. He almost bounded forward to press onwards, but Aveline barred him with her arm.

“Not here, to open, let’s go!” Aveline ordered her remaining people to get out of the compound to a better position where there was less exposure. Garrett was ready to toss a fireball or two the Arishok’s way, but Aveline again called him to retreat and he grudgingly went with her. He glared at the Arishok as he was forced to leave. The two exchanged a knowing look. Only one of them was going to survive this battle.


	25. War That Divides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late Christmas gift, a long chapter until I return after new years. Our hero finally meets the famous Knight Commander Meredith and gets a taste of blood magic.

_**I feel sun** _   
_**Through the ashes in the sky.** _   
_**Where's the one** _   
_**Who'll guide into the night?** _

_**What's begun** _   
_**Is the war that will** _   
_**Force this divide.** _

_**What's to come** _   
_**Is fire and the end of time.** _

_**I am the one** _   
_**Who can recount** _   
_**What we've lost.** _

_**I am the one** _   
_**Who will live on.** _

_**I have run** _   
_**Through the fields** _   
_**Of pain and sighs.** _

_**I have fought** _   
_**To see the other side.** _

_**I am the one** _   
_**Who can recount** _   
_**What we've lost.** _

_**I am the one** _   
_**Who will live on.** _

_**\- 'I am the One' - Ferelden Tavern Song, Composer Unknown** _

Anders had arrived at the estate to find a note waiting for him. He was a bit sad that Garrett had not waited for him when he had left to take care of some business with Isabela before heading down to the Qunari compound with Aveline. He didn’t like the thought of Garrett going into such a dangerous place without him there to watch his back. What if he got hurt? Who would heal him if Anders wasn’t there to fix him up? He shouldn’t have wasted so much time at the Hanged Man. He should have hurried back so he could protect his liebling. The Warden didn’t have much time to wallow in his self-pity before he heard a thunderous boom. The whole house shook and Anders was thrown off his feet. He managed to get back up only to be knocked back down by a second explosion. He had no idea what was happening. Was the city under attack? He didn’t have long to wonder when Fenris ran into the entry hall calling for Garrett.

“Hawke! Where are you?” The white haired elf looked around for the mage, but was greeted only with the sight of Anders. “Where’s Hawke? The Qunari are attacking the city, we need Hawke.”

“What? No!” Anders hissed in frustration, “Garrett was supposed to be at the compound with Aveline. Maker, what if they’ve been captured or if they’re already dead?”

“Then we’re all doomed. But Hawke is a survivor, I wouldn’t count him among the dead just yet.” Yes, Fenris was correct. If there was anything Anders knew to be true about Garrett it was that he was a survivor above all else. He survived the Blight and the cut throat underworld of Kirkwall. What were a few angry Qunari in comparison?

“Yes, you’re right. We need to find him and Aveline. They might have been able to take refuge in Lowtown if they got away from the docks.” Anders grabbed a handful of potions from the storage chest Garrett kept by his writing desk. He ordered Bodahn to keep Sandal and Orana safe. He would put up a barrier on the door after he and Fenris left to keep out any Qunari or looters attempting to take advantage of the chaos. It wouldn’t hold back an entire brigade, but it would buy some time for the three to get into the cellars and escape to Darktown if the worst were to happen.

The plaza near the estate’s door was a scene of chaos. People were running and screaming as they tried to get to some safe haven, in their large homes, the Chantry, or even the Keep. The Qunari hadn’t reached Hightown yet, but it didn’t seem that they were too far off. The city guard we redoing what they could to direct the traffic and get their people to different parts of the city. He spotted the familiar face of Aveline’s fiancé, Donnic. The man had taken charge in absence of the captain and seemed to have his work cut out for him as the civilians panicked around him. It didn’t seem to bother him though, his face was calm and authoritative even in the swirling throng of madness that surrounded him.

“Seems Donnic is putting his poker face to good use,” Fenris commented, “Aveline is lucky to have his loyalty.”

“It would seem so.” Anders saw that some of the guards were running towards the stairs that led to the lower parts of the city, but were slowed by the large number of people trying to climb up the opposite way. “Damn, we’ll never get to Lowtown in time if we take the main streets.”

“There’s a shortcut near the Blooming Rose. It cuts through Darktown. The smell should be enough to drive away the masses.” Fenris’ nose wrinkled a bit at the idea of trudging through the sewers. It would be unpleasant, but it was probably still free of rampaging Qunari.

“Oh lovely, I was hoping to take a leisurely stroll through rivers of Maker knows what today.” He would never be able to get the stench washed out of his clothes and it would probably take a few days for it to face from his skin and hair. But it was a small price to pay to keep Garrett safe, so he agreed without further complaint. The back allies were not as crowded as the plaza or main streets, but steadily filling with refugees from the lower parts of the city. There were some injuries, but most appeared to be caused by other people trampling their neighbors as they attempted to escape.

As Fenris had predicted, the smaller staircase that led down to Darktown was almost completely deserted. There were a few coming up, but not the droves near the market. It didn’t take the two long to descend the stairs into Darktown. The little corridor they found at the bottom was empty even though there were numerous torches stuck into the wall to illuminate the way. It made Anders wonder if the Qunari had come through and carried off the previous inhabitants. There was a lack of blood or any sign of struggle though, so he doubted it.

They made their way cautiously through the low vaulted tunnels that smelled of damp and rot. It wasn’t until they reached one of the less used Lowtown tunnels that they saw any other living being.

They found the Lowtown entrance was under attack as a small contingent of Qunari were attempting to eliminate a group of black clad mercenaries. Anders recognized two of the men in the skirmish. Garrett’s sometime ally Johann and his giant red headed shadow were at the forefront of the fight. The Qunari were skilled warriors, but they were not prepared to deal with so many rogues in one place. The mercenaries darted through the scattered light of the tunnel like shadows, leaping out to strike and jump away once they hit their target. In one especially spectacular display of agility, Johann crouched and jumped high over one of the Qunari. He flipped in the air and sliced a long knife along the Qunari’s neck, severing an artery. As the Qunari dropped, the mercenary landed on its shoulders and used the falling beast as a springboard to leap again and repeat the attack twice more. When the last of the Qunari fell, the mercenaries put away their weapons and began stripping the corpses for anything useful.

“That’ll teach those bastards to come storming into my territory,” Johann growled as he delivered a vicious kick to one body that was nearly decapitated. “Henly,” he commanded his red headed second, “get the wounded to safety and check these animals for any poultices.” The large man gave an affirmative grunt and began herding the injured men to a bolt hole that had been set up some time ago for such a purpose. “Well,” the mercenary said as he laid eyes on Anders and Fenris, “perhaps the Maker is smiling on us today. Good to see you two still among the living.” His feral grin faltered as he took a longer look, “where’s Hawke? Is he with you?”

“No,” Fenris answered, “he was at the docks when the attack began.”

“Damn it. The docks were the first place to fall, barely any of my men made it out. The Qunari slaughtered all the guardsmen that were assigned to the gates.” Johann’s face was pale beneath his deep olive tan, “Maker, I’ve fought my share of Tal-Vashoth, but there were never more than ten at a time. We’ve got a whole legion of the Qunari army burning this city down.” His odd grey-green eyes closed to near slits, “oh, Andraste, it won’t be long till they reach Hightown. Those monsters…they’ll cut out her tongue.” The mercenary suddenly lost his balance as images of what the Qunari would do to any mage they came across flashed through his mind. Anders could understand what he was feeling. It was something that he himself was worried about. The Qunari weren’t likely to show him anymore mercy than an apostate or Circle mage. He would rather die than live as a tongueless, collared thing. But he wouldn’t fall on his blade just yet, there was still hope that Garrett and Aveline were still out there. As long as that hope still flickered, he knew he would fight on.   

“Garrett and Aveline might still be alive, we need to get to Lowtown to see if we can find them.” Anders cut of the mercenary before he could continue his monologue of hopeless despair. “If there is any chance of defeating the Qunari, we need to do this.” Johann raked a hand through short mussed salt-and-pepper hair that was so at odds with all the other times Anders had seen him. The mercenary considered his options. He looked at the remaining men in his company and then back at the Warden and elf before him.

“It seems we only have one option then. Men,” the other mercenaries snapped to attention and fell into an organized pseudo military formation. “I ask you this today, which of you is willing to die for his home? Which of you is willing to lay down your life for your wives, your sons, and daughters? Because that maybe exactly what you are called on to do this day. Will you stand with me? Will you fight with me?” The men beat their swords and shields in a louder and louder at every question, “we may fall this day, but we won’t go alone. Make them pay for every inch.” With an impassioned speech, the morale of the men was raised and they were ready to follow their leader once more into the breach.

The group charged up the ramps to Lowtown, taking down the few Qunari that still lined the stairway. The surfaced not far from the Alienage to find the gate to the elven quarter and the dock were firmly locked. The Qunari flood had been slowed a bit, but there were still a good number in the area. They had been joined by a number of their fanatical elven converts, who while not trained in the art of war like the Qunari, were just as committed to destroying the city.

Wave after wave of Qunari pelted the group and several of Johann’s men fell. Anders did what he could to heal those that were hurt by the Qunari, but some were too badly wounded by the spears to save. In an unexpected show of kindness, Johann tried to comfort the dying, pledging to take care of their families and offer a prayer to the Maker in their name. “Be at peace, sheath thy blade, and go to the Maker’s side.” The poor lads would loosen their grips and close their eyes as their souls left their broken bodies behind.

They made it to the Hanged Man, but found that it had been barricaded in an attempt to stave off attacks. They had been through most of the lower marketplace at this point and were beginning to lose hope in finding Garrett or Aveline. There had not been a single sign of them or any of Aveline’s people. The Qunari were winning and it seemed utter defeat was only being delayed. It was in a last ditch effort that they decided to go to Gamlen’s hovel to see if Garrett had taken shelter there. And by the Maker, they finally found some luck.

There were numerous Qunari in the little square outside the dirty hovel, but they were contending with several Wardens and three wonderfully familiar faces. Garrett, Aveline, and Merrill were with Stroud and his people. A warm sensation of joy flooded through Anders as he saw Garrett cast down a firestorm on the horned warriors.

“Garrett!” He called as he made his way through the mess of bodies and gore that littered the ground in the aftermath. Garrett was grinning ear to ear when he heard Anders call him. He put away his staff and wrapped his lover in his arms.

“Oh, thank the Maker! I was so worried about you.” Anders could smell smoke and blood on Garrett’s skin and hair, but he appeared to be unharmed. It was probably a terrible sin, but he was glad that the blood on Garrett was someone else’s. They held each other for a few more seconds before separating and returning to the situation at hand.

“I thought the Qunari had you. How did you get away from them?”

“The Qunari almost had us, but Aveline, Merrill, and I were able to sneak away through some old Coterie tunnels in one of the dock warehouses. I afraid we were the only ones, none of Aveline’s people made it.” Aveline turned away from them when Garrett told them this. She was blaming herself for their deaths, even though there was likely nothing that could have prevented the casualties. “We ran into Stroud and he told me that you had already gone back home. I wasn’t sure if we’d get to you in time.”

“The Qunari hadn’t made it to Hightown when Fenris and I left. I don’t know what the situation is now.” He tried to reassure Aveline, “Donnic seemed to have things under control. He was trying to organize a rescue effort for those still in the lower city.”

“That’s Donnic,” Aveline said with a lighter tone, “reliable and strong.”

“Like copper marigolds.” Garrett teased in an attempt to cajole his friends back into high spirits. “I see you brought some backup. Good to see you still among the living Johann.”

“For the moment at least. Good to see you as well Guard Captain, perhaps my men and I can still be of assistance today as your own seem a bit…preoccupied. We could keep an eye on things for you until your men arrive. For a price, of course.” The mercenary gave her a wolfish grin. He was right, the guard had not been able to keep order in this part of the city and innocent civilians were starting to pay the price. Aveline frowned a bit, she didn’t like the mercenary, but knew that the options for keeping peace in the city were limited.

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to do it out of a sense of patriotic duty, could I?” The mercenary gave a harsh laugh at the suggestion. His men echoed the sentiment.

“I am a mercenary Guard Captain, not a soldier. My love for this city does not extend so far as to unpaid service. Several of my own people have given their lives today and I liked to give their family some compensation. Pay us or find someone else.” There was short bickering about the number of sovereigns before Aveline handed over a small sack of gold. “A pleasure doing business with you as always my most generous lady. Hawke, be a good lad and kill these horned bastards will you? They’re making a mess of everything and it’s just bad for business to let them continue running a muck.” Johann wrote a quick missive to his wife in Hightown, telling her to go hide in the tunnels under their home until the battle was over and sent one of his fastest lads to deliver the message. He could concentrate now that he knew Garrett would resolve everything. The mercenaries took their leave and dispersed into the back streets to avoid running into large numbers of Qunari.

“Anders,” Stroud pulled his brother Warden aside, “I am sorry, but I cannot stay to fight this battle.”

“What?” Anders cried, flabbergasted, “the Qunari are destroying the city and you’re just leaving? What about the people?”

“Wardens cannot be involved in politics. I will send word to the other cities in the Freemarches so that help may come, but that is the most I can do.” Stroud reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver ring, “here, this ring will offer some protection from brute attacks. It’s power is limited, so use it wisely.” Anders rolled it in his palm. It was single band of silver with what appeared to be elven runes covering the outside. It was a bit large for any of his fingers, but it would probably fit Garrett’s.

“I’m surprised you’re not asking me to go with you.” Stroud gave him a half smile.

“The order commands us to not get involved in politics, but it never said anything about defending one’s family.” And in spite of the chaos around him, Anders couldn’t help but mirror Stroud’s half grin. The sly Orlesian bastard, well, he wasn’t so terrible after all. “Maker protect you, brother.”

“And you. Spread the word as soon as you can, just in case we fail tonight.” Stroud gave a solemn nod and ordered his remaining men to follow him as they attempted to make for the docks and a ship. Anders felt a sight tug on his hand. He glanced down to see that Garrett was holding his hand, but one of his fingers was slightly bent at an odd angle. He must have broken it at some point and not had the opportunity to properly set it. “Let me see that, love.” He held Garrett’s hand up to take a clinical look. There was actually two broken fingers with the knuckles turned at odd angles while the third was just badly bruised. “Oh, liebe, your hand. What happened?” Garrett shrugged and tried to downplay his injury.

“We had a run in with one of the Saarebas. He kept teleporting from place to place before any of us could land a blow on him. I tried to grab him right before he could disappear again and was able to hold on. When he realized I was still holding on, he tried to break my grip.” Anders frowned, and quickly shoved the bones back into place, wrenching out a short shout from Garrett, “Ffffuucckkk.” Garrett wheezed out, “did you have to do that? Maker, I think fixing them hurts more than breaking them.”

“Sorry, I didn’t want you to tense up. Hold on, let me ease the pain,” Anders sent a wave of healing magic into Garrett’s hand. He would have to heal the bones now if Garrett were to continue fighting. He didn’t like knitting bones back together with magic, it always left them a bit more brittle than if they had healed naturally. They would have to deal with that later. For now, they needed to be strong and steady. “How’s that?” Garrett closed his hand into a fist with no issue.

“Much better, thank you. What do you have there?” Garrett pointed to the ring that Anders was still holding.

“Stroud thought it could help. I don’t think I can wear it though. Here,” Anders slid the band on Garrett’s left hand and found that it was a perfect fit for Garrett’s ring finger, “looks much better on you anyways.” Garrett sent a small sliver of magic into the ring and felt it’s power. “I don’t know how much good it will do, but every little bit right?”

“Every little bit.” Garrett agreed, “we shouldn’t linger. The Qunari have moved on for the moment, but they’ll be back. Fenris,” the white haired elf walked over, “have any ideas what the Qunari might be planning? You know about them than I do.” The elf considered what he knew about the Qunari before answering.

“It’s most likely they’ll head to Hightown, probably try to take the Keep and round up as many of the nobles as they can.”

“Why would they do that?”

“The nobles, for all their pettiness, are the ones who hold power in Kirkwall. The Arishok will offer them the choice of converting. If they refuse, they die.” A shudder of revulsion passed through the group. The Qunari had not attempted any form of forced mass conversion in over a hundred years, but during the Steel Age an untold number lost their heads when they refused to abandon their Maker. Now history was threatening to repeat itself.

“Some choice,” Garrett said, “Aveline, how long do you think the guards would be able to hold the Keep?” The captain thought for moment, mentally reviewing the building’s strengths and weaknesses. The walls were thick and carved from heavy granite, but that could just as much work against the people if they needed to get out. There weren’t any underground passages that could be used in case of a siege nor any slits for archers to fire from. It could become a jail just as easily as a fortress.

“A few hours if they barricade all the doors properly, but that leaves them with no escape route. Not where I would choose to make a last stand, but it is where the Viscount would be.” Garrett had a bad feeling about Dumar. The man had not been stable after the loss of his only child. The grieving man was not capable of making good decisions right now and might do something that could threaten any remaining safety of his citizens. What if he ordered the guard to retreat and abandon them? What if he gave in to Arishok’s command of conversion?

“Then that is where the Arishok will be.” Fenris replied, “if you wish to save this city Hawke, then that is where we must go.”

“Doesn’t seem like we have much of a choice anyway. The Qunari will just keep fighting if someone doesn’t step in.” Garrett gave his friends a small smile that shone through the dried blood and grime on his face, “I know I’m asking a lot, but will you, all of you, fight with me one last time?”

“We could all perish tonight, but If I have to die it would be an honor to do so at your side my friend.” Fenris answered, his tattoos glowing briefly in the dark as he spoke. He had never had a real friend before he had met Garrett. While he had harbored romantic longings in his heart for a time, those had mellowed into something deeper and richer, friendship based on unbounded love.

“You don’t have to ask me, lethallin. I’m with you always.” Garrett knew that Merrill had his back even though they occasionally disagreed about magic.

“As if I could say no.” Aveline said with a bit of a laugh, “besides, someone has to keep you out of trouble.”

“Hey!” Anders countered, “that’s my job. Don’t you have a fiancé for that now?” He didn’t verbally answer Garrett’s question. Instead, he wrapped an arm around the other mage’s waist and rested the tips of his fingers on the firm ridge of the hip just below the skin. As with every freely given gesture of love, it sent a small wave of happiness through both of them. I am yours and you are mine, and nothing in this world can take that away from us. That silent promise was fulfilled in every touch and look between them. Garrett knew the blonde would be keeping that promise again as they fought for their home that night. 

“Hah! You’re just as bad,” Aveline said. Anders could agree with her on that. Both of them did seem to attract trouble like magnets.

“Seems we’re all in this together. Good,” Garrett gave one last grin as he turned to face the cloud of smoke and sparks that was rising from the north, “once more into the breach it is.”

~~

They had encountered a fair number of the Qunari as they made their way from Lowtown back to the stairs that led up the Hightown market. Those they did see where headed in the same direction as Garrett and his companions.

They halted at the top step and saw that that smoke and flames were much closer now. They crept along the far wall of the market in the shadows. They were stopped when a Qunari wearing a heavy metal face mask spotted them and dropped the woman he had been dragging behind him. The woman screamed and fled as her captor ordered several more Qunari to attack. Fenris and Aveline advanced forward to keep the Qunari from getting too close the mages. It must have stunned some of the Qunari to see a female warrior, as two of them were momentarily stunned when Aveline sent one stumbling back with a sharp bash from her shield. Fenris moved as if he were tornado made of steel rather than wind. His grace was more that of a dancer than a swordsman, feet lightly moving with barely a sound as he leapt and landed on the hard stone floors. His thin, lithe frame was deceptively strong as he was able to block and push back the Qunari spears with ease.

Merrill used the skills she had learned as a Keeper’s apprentice to summon the deep roots of the trees that lay buried beneath the stone. The roots burst through the granite with a loud crack and wrapped themselves around the wrists and ankles of the Qunari. Aveline and Fenris were able to slay the bound Qunari with little trouble.

Garrett was busy with a lone Saarebas that had turned it’s full attention on him. It had initially tried to cast bombs of kinetic force on Aveline and Fenris, but had abandoned that strategy in favor of killing the dark haired basalit-an. It’s Aarvarad was gone, and it would be killed when the other Qunari released it was no longer collared. So why not take out the one of the most powerful players in the game with what little time it had left?

It cast bolt after bolt of lightning at Garrett. Garrett was able to redirect the electricity with his staff and even send a few right back. Garrett was forced to take a more defensive role in fighting the Qunari mage, as the rest of his party was currently focused on the remaining spear throwers. The Saarebas was able to call up a shield of crackling energy every time Garrett tried to use offensive magic. His lightning and fireballs were absolutely useless against the shields. They just bounced off and sizzled out. The Saarebas set off an even larger spell that dragged Garrett and his companions in as it prepared to set off. Garrett tried to drag himself away, using his staff to gain just a bit of leverage, but was not able to get out of the blast zone in time.

He and the others were thrown high as the blast went off. Garrett landed hard on his back, his muscles and nerves singing with pain as old aches were given new life. Blood trickled down from a wound on his right temple. The skull wasn’t cracked, but it hurt. He couldn’t move and his ears were still ringing from the blast. The Saarebas reappeared and raised his arms to cast the spell that would end his life. Garrett’s heart hammered wildly against its boney cage as he realized it was over. He was going to die and leave his Anders behind…NononoMakerno…

The Saarebas suddenly stilled with a wet metallic hiss. It looked down as saw the tip of a sword poking through it’s chest. With another wet hiss the blade was pulled back and the Qunari dropped like a puppet with it’s strings cut. As it fell, Garrett saw the face of his rescuer. And he suddnely wondered if death by Qunari was preferable.

“Knight Commander,” he said, “seems I owe you a thanks.” The woman pulled him to his feet and gave him a hard look.

“It would seem so.” Her voice was just as hard as her face and cold as the Frostbacks in the dead of winter. Just as Garrett had always expected her to sound. “I’m willing to overlook your use of magic…for the moment. The Qunari are the real threat for now and I won’t turn away any aid.”

“I can agree with you there Knight Commander.” The rest of Garrett’s group had recovered and stumbled to their feet. Aveline was the first to recover and her displeasure at seeing the Knight Commander was plain to see. She saluted the woman as was protocol, but did so with great stiffness. The Knight Commander paid her little mind, only informing her that it appeared that her guardsmen had failed in their duties and that the Templars would be stepping in to handle the situation. Aveline’s cheeks burned red as she fumed at the callous tone. Those were her people, her men and women, how dare the Knight Commander speak of them with such indifference. But Meredith was focused on Garrett, her ice blue eyes narrowing as she realized something, “wait, I know you. You’re a Hawke. I’ve seen your name many times on my reports. Too many times.”

“I get around,” Garrett said casually. The Knight Commander’s frown deepened, “I mean no disrespect Commander, but this doesn’t seem the best time for conversation.”

“No,” the Knight Commander agreed, at last putting her sword away, “it isn’t. We shall speak more once the Qunari have been dealt with. Come,” the Knight Commander began walking away toward the Keep, “several of my men are trying to retake the square, we may be able to assist them if we hurry. Your brother is among them.” That last bit was enough to send a fresh wave of adrenaline into Garrett’s aching frame. Carver, how he had not thought of him in all this? He had assumed that he would be in the Gallows with it high walls and deep waters surrounding the old fortress. He should have known that fate would toss him into flames as well.

Anders kept pace with Garrett, but his attention remained on the Knight Commander. The woman had seen Garrett perform illegal magic and knew him to be an apostate. She hadn’t cut of his head right then and there only because she could use him as a human weapon. Once the Qunari were gone, all bets were off. From what he knew of the woman she would most likely have him executed and claim he was a dangerous maleficar. He wouldn’t let that happen. He would do everything in his power to keep his sweetheart alive and free. Even, Maker help him, conscripting him into the Wardens if it came down to it. He hoped that was bridge they didn’t have to cross.

They soon found themselves in the square near the Amell estate. It was a true and proper war zone. There were broken bodies everywhere, human, elven and qunari. Several of the buildings were burning and others little more than piles of rubble. The Amell estate had managed to escape the worst damage, only a few of the windows were broken and the heavy door still held. There was a small group of mages and Templars still fighting when Garrett and the others arrived. Garrett saw his brother still standing and let out a breath of relief. With his hope flamed once more, he ran into the fray, making his way till he was at Carver’s side.

“Brother!” he called, “I have your back.” The two found themselves fighting back to back, just as they had in their days in Ferelden when the two had been part of Lothering’s small militia. They had not done so in quite a while, but found themselves falling back in sync with no trouble. Matching fierce grins crossed their faces as the euphoria of battle took over. Carver swung his sword and shield as his brother slung fists of stone and called down a small storm to clear the Qunari that crouched along the steps to the Keep.

It was something fantastic to watch, the Hawke brothers acting as one. They moved with a sense of easy familiarity that most warriors could only dream of achieving. As one moved to strike, the other to cover, as one recoiled, the other struck. From the periphery of his vision, Anders watched them and felt a rush of pride for Garrett. Let those who doubted the strength of mages see that and be dumbstruck.

Between them all, the Qunari didn’t last long. A few of the Templars and mages lost their lives defending the square, but Garrett and his friends were unharmed. The two brothers took a moment to embrace and thank the Maker that each was still among the living.

“Maker, it’s good to see you,” Carver whispered as the two held each other, “I saw the estate was still standing, but I couldn’t be sure. You do have a habit of ending up in the middle of things.”

“And you don’t? I’m beginning to think trouble is a Hawke family trait.” The two chuckled and parted, “Meredith knows,” Garrett said more quietly, “she saw me fight the Qunari with magic.”

“Shit, what do we do?”

“For the moment, nothing,” Garrett dropped his gaze, “seems I’m valuable enough to keep alive because I can kill Qunari. Once this is all over…I don’t know. But I don’t want you placing your head on the chopping block for me.” Carver started to protest, but Garrett held up his hand to silence him, “please, just do this for me. Get away if you must, go to Ferelden if nothing else. Meredith won’t have any authority there.” Carver hated the idea of potentially abandoning his brother, but just nodded and silently agreed to the request. Garrett was grateful for the lack of protest, already mentally preparing himself to tell Anders to do the same. Anders was a Warden, but he wouldn’t put it beyond Meredith or her minions to make his love have an unfortunate ‘accident’.

A thin elf in long black robes rose to his feet, groaning as he righted himself. Carver placed a heavy armored hand on his shoulder to steady the mage.

“First Enchanter,” ah, Garrett thought, so this was the First Enchanter Orsino his brother had mentioned before. Carver considered the elf to be quite astute when it came to Circle politics, often annoying Meredith when he would point out things she had no real jurisdiction over. The two were often at each other’s throats, leading to loud rows on occasion that could be heard throughout the compound. “Good to see you on your feet.”

“Thank you Ser Carver, though I’m not sure the Knight Commander shares your enthusiasm.” The blonde woman gave a huff of irritation, “I take it this is your brother? I had wondered if I might ever meet one of Kirkwall’s finest citizens.”

“The finest citizen part might be up for debate considering my mage status,” Garrett said as he shook the elf’s hand, “but a pleasure to make your acquaintance nonetheless.”

“Mage? You?” The elf’s eyes widened a bit before a sly smirk cut across his face, “well, the Maker does have a sense of humor, doesn’t he?”

“Orsino,” Meredith barked, “Step aside and return to the Gallows, my Templars and I will handle it from here.”

“What? No, I will not. This is as much my home as yours and I will defend it.” The two locked eyes and each tried to stare the other down.

“Enough,” Garrett said with exasperation, “this gets us nowhere. I’ll lead this fight, not you.” Meredith gasped at his insolence and even Aveline had to wince.

“You? You’re not even a native.”

“So? Neither are either of us, but we still defend our home.” Orsino countered with more tact, knowing the Meredith could sometimes be pacified with softer words and kinder tones. Meredith said nothing for a long second before nodding and agreeing with Orisino.

“I take it you have a plan then?”

~~

In the end, they opted for a distraction. Meredith and Orsino would remain outside while the others went in. Garrett was able to ask for his brother to accompany him. Meredith was reluctant, but allowed it. Garrett did feel better knowing he could keep an eye on his brother and have his back watched by someone he trusted rather than one of Meredith’s other Templars. Garrett and his companions were able to enter the Keep with no resistance as Orsino and Meredith kept the Qunari guard busy. The entry hall was filled with more Qunari warriors, but they had fallen just like all the others Garrett and his companions had battled. They soon found themselves just outside the throne room. Garrett could hear the sounds of people screaming and crying through the door. With a hard kick, the door’s lock gave way. As he entered, the Arishok had tossed the severed head of Marlowe Dumar into the crow of nobles. The black iron crown continued to roll to the door, only to be halted by Garrett’s foot. The Arishok had a look that bordered on glee when he saw Garrett. He came down the stairs from the throne to the floor with one of his large axes tossed over his shoulder.

“Shanedan Hawke, I expected you. Marass toh ebra-shok. You alone are basalit-an.” He sneered and looked around the room at the quivering nobles, “this is what respect looks like, bas. Some of you will never earn it.” Garrett stood tall as the mass of people around him shrank back in fear. “So tell me Hawke, you know I cannot withdraw, how would you resolve this conflict?”

“I think you and I both know how this ends.” The Qunari gave a slight bow with his neck. He could respect one willing to see the world with open eyes. They both knew that this day had been long in coming.

“You are worth killing personally. Duel me, and show these vashedan how to die.” Garrett didn’t flinch. The Arishok was confident in his abilities, hopefully overconfident. He never got to respond as there was the sound of flesh smacking flesh as the door was knocked open once more. One of the Qunari fell back as a familiar figure strode in.

“Isabela!” Hawke exclaimed with joy, “you came back!”

“This is your damned influence Hawke, I was halfway to Ostwick when I realized I had to come back.” She gave him a cheeky grin and handed him the book that had started all this trouble. Garrett knew that Isabela had taken quite a risk in coming back and the further risk she was taking by relinquishing her best bargaining chip. “Take it before I change my mind.”

“I believe this is yours,” Garrett handed the book to the Arishok. The large Qunari let out a small, reverent sound as the precious thing was laid in his hands.

“The Tome of Koslun,” he said as he carefully gave it a kneeling Qunari soldier who took it and wrapped it in a fine blue cloth. “I can return to Par Vollen. With the relic and the thief.”

“What!” Isabela exclaimed.

“Oh no, she’s staying right here” Aveline interjected, “if anyone is kicking her ass, it’s me.” Garrett scowled at the Arishok. He had hoped that with Isabela’s miraculous return they could still resolve this peacefully.

“You have the relic, now leave. We will punish her, but it will be here. I will not allow you to take her.”

“Then we will duel for the thief. If you win, she stays. If I win, she goes to Par Vollen with us.” Isabela tried to protest and fight the duel instead, but the Arishok would not permit such a thing. She was not basalit-an, not worthy to fight.

“So be it.” Garrett said, to the surprise of the gathered crowd. Most of the nobles expected him to give the Arishok what he wanted, but his friends knew him better. They knew he would try something stupid.        

“What the hell are you doing?” Anders hissed as Garrett accepted the Arishok’s challenge. Garrett tried to ignore him, but Anders would have none of it. He grabbed Garrett’s arm and forcefully turned him and pulled him close so that there was barely an inch between them. “Have you completely lost your mind? He’ll kill you.”

“I have to do this, Anders.”

“No! No, you don’t. You have another option.” Anders and Garrett both glanced at Isabela from the corner of their eyes. The pirate queen was fidgeting with nervous energy next to Aveline. Anders liked Isabela, could even say that he was fond of the lady, but he would not put her life above Garrett’s.

“That’s not an option. I don’t betray my friends.” Garrett said through gritted teeth. He couldn’t let the Qunari take her and do Maker knows what to her. Isabela would surely break under their hands.

“Friend? She betrayed you! She left you out to dry while she ran off with the book. If it weren’t for her selfishness, the Qunari would never have attacked. She’s the cause of all this.” Garrett tried to turn away again, but Anders just sharply pulled him back. He wasn’t going to lose him again, not after all they had been through. Not when they were finally building a life together. “For Maker’s sake, please do the smart sensible thing for once, don’t let your savior complex get you killed.” He knew instantly that he had said the wrong thing. Garrett’s eyes twitch at the corner and the muscles of his jaw clench tight.

“Sorry, but apparently I’m too much of an idiot.” Garrett pushed a small bit of force magic between them, sending Anders stumbling back a step. He wanted to apologize, to say something, but his anger at Isabela and Garrett’s need to save her overwhelmed him and tied his tongue.

Garrett held himself high as he walked towards the Arishok. He was not overconfident in his chances of beating the leader of the Qunari army, but if he didn’t need everyone else to know that. He gave his staff a twirl and let the blade hit the floor with a small spark of electricity. That little display of power made some of the Qunari uneasy as they muttered about the bas saarebas. The Arishok showed no fear at Garrett’s display of magic.

“If I win, your people will take the book and go. You will not take a single item or person from this city. Is that acceptable?”

“It is. And we shall take this bas and use them as the Qun sees fit. The thief will have a special punishment waiting for her in Par Vollen. It is inevitable.”        

Garrett and the Arishok circled each other as they prepared their weapons. The large Qunari gave his two large axes a twirl before lowering his head and charging forward with an unexpected burst of speed. Garrett rolled away to avoid being run over by the steel skinned giant. He was able to get back to his feet and throw a fireball at the Qunari’s face. The Arishok howled and dropped one of his axes to protect his eyes. Garrett took advantage of the opening and charged. He used his staff like a spear, jabbing the blade forward in an attempt to pierce the Qunari’s armor. The Arishok recovered as Garrett lunged forward and brought up both axes to halt the attack. The blade of the staff was caught by the flat faces of the axes. The two struggled to move their weapons, the metal of the blades sending of little white sparks as they slide back and forth. After drawing in a breath to regain some stamina, the Arishok put his weight behind the axes and shoved Garrett off balance. Garrett briefly stumbled back to regain his footing. The Qunari took the momentary advantage and pressed forward. The Arishok brought down his axes in a chopping movement, nearly taking off Garrett’s head. The mage was able to raise his staff just in time to catch the axes. The force of the attack brought Garrett down to his knees. The axes began to grind and cut through the heavy metal of the staff. The humans in the audience gasped as Kirkwall’s champion faltered. Garrett flicked his eyes towards his friends and saw the fear on their faces. He could see Aveline and Isabela mouthing ‘no, no’ and grasping each other’s hands without even realizing it. Anders was watching him with a stoney face, but a mix of anger at Garrett’s decision and fear of losing his love filled those amber eyes. With a burst of adrenaline fueled strength Garrett was able push back and put some distance between himself and the Arishok.

Garrett summoned a stone fist and struck the Arishok in the center of the chest. The Arishok was knocked back a step, but otherwise uninjured. Garrett tossed a smoke bomb and used the temporary screen to begin casting a one of his lightning spells. It took more time and focus than he could afford in the open field without backup, but it seemed to be his only chance at making a dent in the Qunari. He could hear the Arishok growl as he attempted to find Garrett in the smoke. The bomb would only give him a minute of cover, so he had to make the best of it. He could feel the familiar crackle of power dance across his skin as the magic consolidated around him. He threw his senses outwards and found his enemy in the fog. With seconds to spare Garrett unleashed his spell and hit the Qunari with everything he had.

The fog cleared and waves of electricity slammed into the Qunari. The Arishok was hit full force. The Qunari’s body stiffened and jerked uncontrollably, his mouth opening but not sound coming out. Garrett felt a brief surge of relief, but realized he had used too much energy on that one spell. His legs were shaking and ready to give out if not for the white knuckled grip on his staff. With shaking hands, he managed to pop the top off a lyrium potion and take a swallow. He barely tasted the bitter liquid as magic filled his veins once more.

The Arishok recovered before Garrett had regained full control over his magic. The Arishok charged the mage again. This time Garrett was not able to get out of the way in time. His staff was cut in half and Garrett was hit on his right flank. The flat of the axe slammed into his lower ribs, breaking bone with an audible crack. Garrett flew through the air, slamming into one of the columns. The back of his head collided with the stone and his vision began to spot. He could feel a trickle of blood dribbling down his neck. The force of the impact had irritated his old back injury and the muscles alongside his spine began twitching uncontrollably. Oh, Maker, he hurt. Everything was hurting and aching, but he couldn’t give up. His eyes met his brother’s and then Anders. They were both pale and glassy eyed as they watched their loved one struggle to stay alive. He tried to push himself up, but a foot slammed down between his shoulders. When he tried to reach out for the bladed half of his broken staff another foot crushed his right forearm, easily snapping both bones.

“You are finished Hawke,” a clawed hand grabbed his hair and hauled him up to eye level, “you would have made a worthy member of the Antaam.” The sharp talons dug into the sensitive skin of Garrett’s scalp, releasing another trickle of hot, sticky blood. Garrett could feel the dark side of his magic calling on him to survive no matter the cost. His staff was gone, but there was another source of power available to him. One that was dripping down his back.

“I’m not done yet,” Garrett snarled and swiped a swath of his blood across the Arishok’s face with his uninjured left hand, making sure to get the black eyes. With a burst of mana, the blood crackled and bubbled before exploding across the Qunari’s face. The Arishok dropped Garrett and brought both hands to his face. He clawed at his eyes and screamed as flesh popped and sizzled. Garrett was able to scurry over to the two pieces of his staff. He grabbed the end that still held the long blade and hefted it gingerly with his less dominant hand. The Arishok managed to open his eyes right before Garrett stabbed him in the chest. The Arishok looked down at the end of the blade protruding from his flesh. The Arishok feel back, dropping his weapons and gasping his last breaths.

“My most worthy rival…truly basalit-an.” The dying Qunari gave Garrett a toothy grin, “one day, we shall return.” Garrett snatched the blade out the Arishok’s wound and slit his throat in single move. The Arishok collapsed and was no more. It was over and Garrett knew Kirkwall was safe.

“I have defeated your Arishok,” Garrett told the remaining Qunari forces, “take your relic and leave this city in peace.” The Qunari quietly accepted their defeat and did not resist. A few even gave a small bow of the head in acknowledgement of Garrett’s victory. It had been centuries since an outsider had defeated such a high ranked member of the Qun. Such a feat was not likely to be seen again in their lifetime. Garrett was able to stay on his feet until the last of the Qunari had left the throne room, but could feel his legs ready to buckle any second. He was saved from further injury when Aveline and Carver came to his aid, both taking a side to support him.

“Easy Hawke, I’ve got you.” Aveline said as she placed his left arm over her shoulder.

“Brother, are you alright? What can we do?” Carver took the broken remains of his staff and set it aside. He knew that Garrett was upset that his staff was ruined. It had been the last thing Malcolm Hawke had given his eldest son. A staff that Malcolm himself had carried for years as he wandered the nations of Thedas. A last little piece of their father that Garrett had treasured for years, refusing to even consider a new staff so long as he had his Father’s. “I’m sorry about Father’s staff, maybe we can fix it?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Garett said flatly, coughing and wincing as the motion jostled his broken ribs. “I’m about to be executed if Meredith has her way.” The Knight Commander had seen him use magic and knew him for what he really was. There was no way she was allowing him to roam about free, especially after the stunt with the blood magic. He could only hope his friends and family would not be punished for his actions.

“Garrett, love?” Anders was with him now, looking him over critically with his healers’ eye. He conjured a small bit of spirit energy and brought it against Garrett’s chest. “Dear Maker, your ribs. They’re broken, four of them just snapped. We need to bind them quickly.”

“Anders…I…” Garrett tried to speak, to apologize for the use of blood magic, but Anders cut him off and ordered him not to speak. Garrett didn’t protest and allowed himself to give into the cold numbness that had been filling him since he hit the column. He blinked slowly as his vision tunneled down to pinpoints, the last thing he could see was Anders’ lips moving, but the words sounded too far away for him to understand.       

~~

Carver and Aveline felt Garrett go unconscious and lowered him down. Fenris stood back and kept the nobles from crowding around the unconscious mage. Merrill had also kept back, muttering nervously as she waited for some sign that Garrett would be alright. Aveline pulled him into her lap and positioned his head against her chest. She cradled the back of his bleeding head and whispered desperate words into his ear. Please, please come back Hawke. Please, don’t go to the Maker’s side just yet.

“Do something,” Carver snapped at Anders, “fix him now!”

“I’m trying. Hold his head for me,” Anders found an elfroot potion in his bag and tipped it into Garrett’s mouth. Some of if dripped over the side of his mouth, but Garrett’s reflexes kicked in and he automatically swallowed some. “That’s it, drink it down love. You’re going to be alright.” Anders brushed a bit of matted hair soaked with sweat and blood from Garrett’s forehead. His skin was cool, but not icy. It was a good sign. “Give him to me, Aveline.” Aveline was reluctant to let her friend go. Her protective instincts screamed at her to wrap Garrett tight in her arms and not hand him over to the person who had been arguing fiercely with him minutes before the duel. Her arms tightened briefly before she allowed Anders to take him. He tucked his liebling into his body, remembering to keep his hands away from the more painful wounds as much as possible. He was so very pale and still, if it weren’t for the weak puffs of air coming from his lips he could have been mistaken for dead. He pushed away the sweat soaked black strands that stuck to Garrett’s forehead and pressed an apologetic kiss to his brow. I’m sorry, so sorry for hurting you love, he whispered to the damp skin before turning his attention back to Aveline and Carver. “We need to get him out of here, now.” Aveline rose and began ordering the nobles that had tried to crowd around to watch to step back. There were shouts of ‘is he dead?’ ‘let us see Serah Hawke’, but Aveline only continued to call for order. With some assistance from Carver, Anders tried to carry Garrett out of the Keep and back to the safety of the Amell estate. Fenris and Merrill went ahead to clear the path as the others carried Garrett. They were stopped when the Knight Commander finally arrived with her Templars and the First Enchanter.

“Is it over?” The Knight Commander asked, her voice surprisingly hesitant.

“It’s over Knight Commander,” Aveline confirmed, “Hawke defeated the Arishok in a duel and the Qunari are leaving the city as we speak.”

“The city has been saved!” A member of the nobles cried, other joining in and cheering. The Knight Commander surveyed the scene without smiling. She had wanted to take the apostate into custody once the battle for Kirkwall was over, but with him single handedly defeating the Arishok there was no way the nobles would allow her to lock up their hero. Not while he held their favor anyway. She would simply have to bide her time and be ready to catch him when he inevitably fell out of their good graces. She put away her sword and commanded her Templars to do the same. She looked at the unconscious mage in the arms of one of her Templars and a Warden. This was far from over.

“It seems Kirkwall has a new Champion. So be it.” The nobles cheered again, shouting ‘Champion’ ‘Champion’ as Garrett was taken home.


	26. Within Creation, None Are Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter dedicated to the real world warriors, the men who fight the monsters. May your aim always strike true.

_**Great heroes beyond counting raised** _   
_**Oak and iron 'gainst chains of north-men** _   
_**And walked the lonely worm-roads evermore.** _   
_**Mighty of arm and warmest of heart,** _   
_**Rendered to dust. Bitter is sorrow,** _   
_**Ate raw and often, poison that weakens and does not kill.** _

_**\- Canticle of Andraste 1:2** _

He drifted in and out of consciousness for about three days. The first two was spent fighting a monstrous blood infection and the terrifying dreams it brought. Once that hurdle was passed, only the broken bones and torn flesh needed healing. He would sometimes wake to find someone looking down at him or feel the sensation of something cold pressed against his skin. His mabari was always there in those lucid periods, whining and kissing him whenever his eyes cracked open long enough. The familiar scent of dog soothed him and always sent him back into the comforting darkness of slumber.

A few times he woke and saw his brother or Aveline. When he tried to talk, they just shushed him and had him drink water or nibble on soft bread dampened with beef broth if he was able to move his jaw. If his mind wasn’t so muddled by medicine and pain he might have been amused to see Carver was a surprisingly devoted caregiver. He pressed frozen rags to his swollen side and changed the bandages that covered the back of his head, right arm, and lower abdomen.

“Rest brother, your injuries were very bad. You’ll be better soon, I promise.” Garrett would smile weakly, feeling the skin of his lips crack a bit from dehydration. He wanted to thank Carver for being there, for being the good man their mother had always seen. His tongue was too heavy for such things, so he just kept it tucked away until he was better. He would sometimes feel a sharp little prick before the darkness claimed him again. Right before his mind shut off he would wonder where Anders was and why he wasn’t beside him.

~~

The Grey Warden had kicked himself for days as his love struggled to recover. He blamed himself. If he had not been so emotionally overwhelmed he would not have overlooked the smaller wounds as he concentrated on the broken bones. A small wound on Garrett's stomach had been overlooked given the extent of his other injuries. It had been cleaned, but some bacteria had already found it’s way into his blood by that point. The wound had begun to fester in the early morning hours and Garrett burned hot with fever. Anders had been napping on top of the blankets when he was awakened by a pained moan on the pillow next to his. A quick touch to Garrett’s sweat soaked brow was all Anders needed to be spurred to action. He had rushed to the room Carver was sleeping in and nearly dragged him out of bed by the ankle. The Templar groused and threatened to clock him upside the head until he heard a pained shout coming from the open door of Garrett's room. No longer sleepy, Carver pulled on a pair of trousers and asked what he could do. Glad to have a helping hand, Anders sent Carver to Merrill to get some of the spindleweed she grew by her house in the Alienage while he gathered up some of his own supplies that he had drying in the kitchen. He had even woken up Bodahn and Sandal to get water for a bath. The healer had to get Garrett’s temperature down fast and the best way to do so was with a cold bath. The dwarves finished filling the large copper basin in the bathroom adjoining the master bedroom just as Carver returned with the herbs and sleepy Merrill. Seeing Garrett's pale, sweaty form shook the last vestiges of sleep from the elf. She offered to start preparing a potion that would cleanse Garrett’s blood of sickness while the two men got him into the bath.

Carver and Anders were able to lift him out of bed, his head lolling like a rag doll’s as they carried him to the bath. Anders had Carver hold his brother steady as he used a bit of frost magic to lower the water temperature. With a quick apology the two lowered him in. Garrett howled as the cold water made contact with his fire hot skin and tried to escape. His skin was slippery and it was difficult for the two men to keep a hold of him. The energy to fight left him after a few minutes of struggle and he went limp as the fever took hold. Carver had more water brought up for Anders to turn to ice as they slowly brought down Garrett’s temperature.

“I finished with the potion,” Merrill announced from the bedroom, “I made a few extra bottles just in case one isn’t enough.”

“Thank you, Merrill,” Carver called as he and Anders pulled Garrett out of the tub and dried him off. “Let me get my brother back to bed and I’ll walk you home.”

“Oh, no that’s alright, it’s not far.” Merrill said, happy that the young Templar couldn’t see the blush blooming across her cheeks. He really was such a sweet boy and very dashing in his armor.

“I insist,” Carver said as he and Anders laid Garrett back down on the bed. “Anders, you can handle it from here?” The blonde gave a short hmm of agreement as he set himself to the task of caring for the younger mage. “Besides, there’s always gangs in Lowtown, I’ll feel better if I know you got back safely.”

“Well, ok. If, you’re sure. I’ll drop by tomorrow with some more spindleweed and rashvine.” Merrill gave a shy smile as Carver helped her with her cloak before they left Anders and Garrett. The blonde mage felt a hint of amusement as he watched them from the corner of his eye. Those two were clearly smitten with each other.

“The Maker has a sense of humor after all love,” Anders sighed as he poured a small sip of the potion into Garrett’s mouth. Garrett swallowed automatically and Anders was able to get half the flask down his throat with no trouble. “Why do I get the feeling you’ll want to play matchmaker once you’re better?” Garrett only grumbled sleepily in response, “yes, yes I’ll help. No need to be pushy.”

~~     

Merrill’s potion helped purge the infection from Garrett’s blood, but it took all three vials for it be completely cleansed. In the mean tine, he alternated shaking from phantom chills and throwing off the sheet as flames flickered under his skin. His fever continued to climb as he slipped in strange, hallucinatory dreams where every shadow seemed a demon ready to take him. He had screamed and even attempted to tackle his brother and Anders when he became confused about their identities, certain they were Fade creatures trying to trick him. Carver had been forced to use his Templar abilities to temporarily take away his brother’s mana so he wasn’t a danger to himself. To give Garrett uninterrupted sleep, a more drastic solution was taken.

“He’s sleeping again.” Carver announced as he made his way into the study. “Much as I hate using it, I think the magebane is helping.” It was a highly diluted variation of what the Templars would use when they were out tracking rogue apostates. Carver had managed to beg some from Knight Captain Cullen. As he was still a junior member of the order and not ready to be sent out to hunt rogue mages, the Knight Captain had initially been quite confused why Carver would want it until he explained he needed some to use as a sedative as his brother healed. Despite initial misgivings about approaching his superior, Cullen proved to be surprisingly helpful. He had one of the tranquil prepare the magebane while taking the time to inquire about his brother’s condition and Carver’s own. When confronted with the fact that Serah Hawke was a mage Cullen took in stride. He had seen the aid Garrett had given the city’s refugees over the years and how he had helped the Templars bring in several dangerous individuals. It was for the Maker to pass judgement, not him, was Cullen’s final words on the matter. Carver had left the Gallows more relieved than he had been in days. Upon returning to the Amell estate, he administered the magebane and Garrett slipped into the unconscious dreams of a nonmage. For the first time in days, the house was calm.

The blonde had not been enthusiastic about the idea of using magebane on Garrett. As one who had felt it’s sting from a series of failed escapes, he didn’t like the idea of subjecting Garrett to more pain. Thankfully, Cullen had ordered it so diluted it caused less pain than a paper cut. He still hadn’t been able to bring himself to administer it, so that duty was left to Carver.

Anders was mashing some of the spindleweed Merrill had dropped off the day before to make a poultice when Carver climbed the stairs to the second level. “He’s been awake more the last few hours. He’ll want to see you next time he wakes.”

“Maybe,” Anders said noncommittally, “he needs to rest and focus on getting better, not on me.”

“You tell him that, he’s stubborn. Hawke family trait I’m afraid.” Carver tried to make light of the situation. He was worried for his brother and Anders by extension. He didn’t really care for the other mage, but his brother was mad for him, so he tried to keep things civil between them. He could see that Anders wanted to be the one taking care of his brother, but wasn’t letting himself do it. No doubt he was still kicking himself for his words before the duel. He had been glued to Garrett’s side as he fought the fever, unable to ignore his healer’s duties. But as Garrett had recovered, he had become a bit more distant. Not because of any irritation with Garrett, but anger at himself. “He’s not the type to stay angry, you know. If anything, he’s going to think he’s done something wrong if you keep avoiding him.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Anders huffed, setting aside the crushed spindleweed, “he hasn’t done anything wrong except be too forgiving.”

“Even though he used blood magic on the Arishok?” Anders stiffened. He was still reeling a bit from seeing Garrett perform forbidden magic in front of him. He hadn’t known what to think when he saw it. Yes, he wanted Garrett to survive, but he hadn’t wanted him to resort to such dark measures. He hadn’t summoned a demon, but dabbling in the dark arts was a slippery slope. It was addictive and easy. Many a good mage had given in and become an abomination that way. “Anders, he’s not a maleficar. I know my brother, he isn’t about to summon demons or perform blood sacrifices. He’d rather die than do any of that.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I grew up in the Circle with him Carver, not you.” Anders snapped, annoyed and angry that Carver would presume that he would ever think Garrett capable of such awful thing. Carver seemed to deflate a bit when he mentioned his brother’s long absence from the Hawke family. Was he feeling guilty about all the time the brothers had lost because of it? He decided to leave that bit alone, that was for Garrett and Carver to deal with, not him. “Sorry, you are right about your brother. It’s just a bit unsettling to see. More so when you can actually feel the magic.” Anders ran a hand through his blonde hair as he sat down and rested a bit. He hadn’t slept much in three days and it was catching up with him. He couldn’t bear to sleep with Garrett in such bad shape and the possible end of their relationship looming over his head. “Blood magic just feels wrong, like something slimey and rotten running itself over your skin and digging into your mind. It makes me a bit sick thinking about it.”   

“You’ve seen it before then? Before seeing Garrett do it?” Anders nodded.

“I’m surprised they didn’t tell you about the Circle in Ferelden. During the Blight, a mage named Uldred tried to start an uprising against the Templars. He used blood magic to make the other mages obey him and he ended up turning into a Pride abomination. Took quite a few other mages with him before the Commander cut off his head.” Aedan had told Anders about the fight with the possessed mage and how he had nearly failed to arrive in time to save Irving from also becoming an abomination. If not for the litany of Adralla, the whole Tower would have been annulled. Carver looked at him in a state of mild  disbelief.

“Maker, no wonder Meredith is so paranoid about blood magic.” Carver sat down beside Anders on the small couch beside one of the smaller book shelves.

“Over paranoid if you ask me. Most mages would never consider it an option. Our Harrowing is usually enough to make any mage walk the straight and narrow.” Carver had yet to attend any Harrowings, but he had heard more than a few terrible things about them. He knew his brother was a Harrowed mage, but Garrett had never talked about it. “I had the most horrible nightmares for years after mine. I used to make myself stay awake so I wouldn’t have to dream. Made me terribly grumpy.”

“Moreso than usual?” Anders gave Carver a small shove to the ribs with his elbow, “ow, alright, alright.” Carver thought for a moment about what Anders had told him before asking, “what about Garrett? Did he have nightmares too?”

“I don’t know.” Anders answered honestly, “we had a falling out shortly after his Harrowing. If he did, he never told me.” He didn’t doubt that Garrett had nightmares during that time, though he wasn’t sure how many were due to the Harrowing or his thoughtless actions. The two sat in silence for a moment.

“I won’t say anything to Meredith,” Carver finally said, “and I know you won’t. Do you think that will be enough to keep her from taking him away?”

“I don’t know,” Anders sighed, “honestly, I don’t know.”

~~

“You have some nerve showing up here,” Anders hissed when he caught sight of Isabela in the estate’s entry hall. The pirate queen had made herself scarce over the last few days. Being the cause of the Qunari’s prolonged stay, she was not a popular figure in Kirkwall for the moment. Garrett’s duel had put her back in the good graces of some, but many were still hurting and healing from the attack. He stalked over to her, using his greater height to loom over her, hoping that it make her leave, “get out. Now.”

“Last time I checked, this was Hawke’s house. Not yours,” Isabela huffed, crossing her arms in a defensive manner and glaring right back at the Warden. “I want to see him.”

“Not a chance. You’ve done enough damage.” Isabela flinched and momentarily lost her nerve. She did feel terrible about her friend nearly getting killed because of her selfishness. She really did want to repair some of the damage she had caused. But the damned stubborn blonde wasn’t giving her a chance. “What makes you think you have the right to come in here and demand more of him?”

“I’m not demanding anything,” Isabela retorted, “he’s my friend and I want to see him.” Before either of them could say anything else, Carver stepped in.

“Enough! You both made mistakes that day,” Anders and Isabela both looked a bit admonished at the truth. “Anders, Isabela does have a right to see my brother. She’s made her mistakes, let her try to make things right.” Anders opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when he saw the way Isabela was hanging her head. She really did regret what she had done and that her friend, probably one of the only real friends she had ever had, had paid the price.

“Fine,” he said, “just try to not to wake him. He needs his rest.”

“I won’t. I just need to see him and then I’ll be out of everyone’s hair.” Isabela agreed, giving Carver a small smile as thanks. She quietly ascended the mezzanine and opened the door to the master bedroom. The curtains were drawn shut and the only source of light was a few candles scattered about on the mantle and writing desk. The room smelled strongly of herbs and wax, a vast improvement to the stench of sweat and sickness that had permeated it just a day before. Garrett was lying on his back, tucked under a single sheet the shielded his naked frame from the open air. His head, right arm, and abdomen were all wrapped in clean white linen bandages. At the foot of the bed Garrett’s mabari lay stretched out as it kept his master company. Archon lifted his head and made a sniffling noise when he heard Isabela. The dog hopped off the bed and stretched before giving Isabela a slobbery lick on the hand. “Good boy,” she cooed, “now, why don’t you be a good dog and bother Anders for a bit?” It panted happily at the thought of terrorizing the human that had stolen his side of the bed and ran off. She smiled when she heard the dog bark and a subsequent thud of a human falling to the floor. That should keep the stick in the mud busy for a bit, she thought.

“Hawke, you are the only person who has ever seen me as someone worth fighting for.” Isabela said as she sat down on the bed beside the sleeping mage. She gave a weak smile at him and played a bit with the curled ends of his ebony hair. She had always loved playing with Garrett’s hair when she could get away with it. She hadn’t done it much in recent months after the two idiot mages finally got together. It no longer seemed appropriate to do so. Anders was his lover, not her. “Not even my own mother treated me like that. It wasn’t until I met you and the twins that I realized how family takes care of each other. I wish I could have had a brother like you then, maybe I wouldn’t be such a screw up today if I did.” Isabela wiped away a twin track of tears and leaned down to rest her forehead against Garrett’s. “I wish we could have met in another life. Maybe things would be different. Maybe, just maybe you could have been mine.” She pressed a kiss to his brow and sat back up, “Doesn’t matter really does it? I’ll miss you my sweet, sweet boy.” Isabela placed a folded on the table beside the bed and smoothed the single soft sheet that was covering Garrett’s sleeping form. “You’ll make sure he reads my note?”

“You could always just stay and tell him yourself when he’s better.” Anders walked into the room, having been standing outside to give Isabela a moment of privacy after getting the mabari play with Carver instead, “he cares about you. He’d want to make sure you’re alright.” Isabela shook her head.

“It’s better this way. You were right, I screwed up and Hawke paid for it. If he was awake, he’d try to get me to stay and I would probably say yes. If I stay he’s just going to get hurt again because of my mistakes. I don’t want that. He’s already done more than anyone else has ever done for me. I can’t see him put himself in that kind of danger because of me again.”

“That’s actually…really noble of you.” Anders said with surprise. Yes, he was still furious with her, but it was starting to give way to forgiveness. After all, his own record was far from perfect. He knew that Isabela wasn’t a bad person, just very self-centered to the point of endangering those around her at times. He would have thought she’d stick around if only to enjoy some of the perks of being associated with the man who defeated the Arishok in single combat.

“Yea, well keep it to yourself. I have a reputation to uphold. Take care of our sweet boy, he needs you.” A bit of color bloomed on Anders’ cheeks for the first time in days at Isabela’s words. The corners of his mouth turned up just a bit and he felt a lightness in his chest that began to unknot the ball of fear and anger that had taken residence there. He didn’t say anything, just busied himself with tending to his unconscious love. Isabela watched them for a moment from the threshold. It was a sweet moment of domestic tenderness, the Warden rearranging the pillow behind Garrett’s head and resting the back of hand on Garrett’s brow to check for fever. Garrett, who had not even twitched when Isabela kissed him, stirred a bit at the blonde’s gentle touch. His mouth opened and a groggy whisper of ‘aanndeers’ spilled out. The blonde hushed him and quietly reassured him that he was there and that all was well. Feeling more and more like and intruder on their happiness, Isabela shut the door behind her as she left and walked out of the estate certain that it was the last time she would do so.  

~~

Anders lay frozen rags on the large bruises that decorated Garrett’s right side. The swelling had gone down a bit and the bruises were beginning to fade from blue-black to green on the edges. Garrett barely reacted as the cold cloth brushed his skin. He was still quite out of it, he hadn’t moved at all when Isabela had touched him. For this reason, he was quite startled when Garrett started speaking.

“An..ders?” His eyes were still closed, but he seemed to be at least partially awake, “where…you?”

“I’m here, love. Can you open your eyes?” Garrett’s eyes slowly opened. His pupils were blown wide, almost taking up the entire eye. Likely a combination of the medicine and low light. They were a bit glassy, but clearer than anyone had seen in days. “Here, drink some water. You must be thirsty.” Garrett tried to sit up, but his strength was gone. Instead Anders moved to sit behind him and gently helped him up until he was reclining on his chest. He filled a cup with water and brought it to dried lips. Garrett tried to drink too much at first and choked a bit before slowing down and taking only small sips. “That’s good, not too fast. More?” Garrett turned his face and weakly pushed the cup away, refusing a second. He had nothing but water in his belly now and it was a bit unpleasant. “Alright, maybe more later. I’ll get Carver, he can…”

“No.” Garrett demanded, “no.” Anders was taken back a bit at the petulant tone. Garrett had been easy and pliant in his arms only seconds before and now he bristled with agitation. It had been a bad idea to be here when Garrett was still recovering, probably still angry with him for his hurtful words. He should have left the care to someone else.

“What do you want then?” Anders asked, not sure he would like the answer. He expected the other mage to demand him to leave, to fetch Aveline or maybe even Merrill. Instead, he was taken aback when Garrett began to sob and tried to bury himself in his arms.

“You stay. Please?” Garrett had tucked his head under Ander’s chin and nuzzled at the small patch of skin exposed by the v of his collar. “Need you. My Anders, Please?”

“Yes, yours. I’ll stay as long as you want.” He kissed the top of those slightly curling locks, burying his fingers in their dark comfort. Garrett relaxed against him and leaned into the touch like an affection starved feline. He hummed happily and closed his eyes again as he began to doze off. When Garrett’s breathing deepened and evened out to a slower rhythm, Anders found himself drifting off as well. He could feel the lack of sleep finally catching up with him. Knowing that sitting up sleeping would only lead to a stiff neck and lower back, he slipped out from under Garrett’s sleeping form without waking him and replaced the pillow under his head. He stretched out and lay down next to Garrett, marveling at how peaceful he looked in sleep even with all the bandages and bruises covering his body. He caressed a stubbled cheek and planted a chaste kiss to Garrett’s lips. “I’m always yours, sweetheart.”

When Carver came up to check on his brother a short while later he found both of them asleep sharing the same pillow and holding hands.


	27. Halfway Out of the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to Darkspawn for their comment on the use of German for this fic. It makes me wish I was able to speak it rather than relying on translation websites and apps. This chapter marks the end of Act II and begins the DLC Legacy. I hope you like this part. It was actually quite difficult to write in some places, a few things I wished to say to someone I used to know. Cliche as it is, it did help breath life into this part.

"You really shouldn't push yourself too much. You've barely started to heal." Anders cautioned as Garrett pushed himself off the edge of the bed. Garrett had insisted that he was able to leave the bedroom today and take a short venture into the gardens just behind the estate. He hadn't left the confines of the house in almost two weeks and he was going a bit stir crazy. Carver had returned to his duties at the Gallows several days earlier, but tried to stop by every day to see his brother and his progress. He had been Anders' ally in keeping Garrett from overdoing anything and setting back his recovery. The two of them were enough to make the dark haired mage consider sneaking into the cellar to get away.

"I'm not planning to climb Sundermount, Anders. I just need some fresh air. Now, you can help me or I can get Sandal to make the wall go 'booom'." Anders rolled his eyes and helped Garrett to his feet. The younger man laughed a little and held onto Anders' waist to steady himself. The bones of his right leg had not been broken during the duel, but had been pretty badly bruised when he had hit the column. He had been pumped so full of adrenaline it wasn't until later he found his right leg to be hurt in addition to all his more obvious injuries.

"Alright there, love?" Anders put a steadying arm around Garrett's shoulder as he helped take the stress off his injured right side.

"It's better today, I can put most of my weight on it. I think I'll be able to get around on my own in the next day or two." Garrett tested his leg, grimacing a bit when a dull pain throbbed in his lower leg.

"It's alright, I don't mind having a legitimate excuse to keeping you in my arms." Anders smiled, tightening his grip momentarily. Garrett gave a small chuckle and tipped his head back for a kiss.

"Thank you," Garrett whispered against his lips.

"For a kiss?"

"No, well maybe a little. I meant for everything, for taking care of me, staying here even after the…thing with the Arishok. I know you're not happy about what I did, but I can't change what's already done." They hadn't talked about the little blood magic trick Garrett pulled to save his own skin. They haven't talked about their argument before the duel either. They've avoided talking about that day as much as they can. Neither was prepared to broach the subject that could end the fragile peace between them. But Garrett had decided to take the plunge first and see where they would end up once all was said and done. "You know me, Anders. I'm not a blood mage. How could I be when I see all the terrible things it does?"

"I know that, love. I know you're not a maleficar. I wouldn't be here if you were. It's just…" Anders remembered the unsuccessful coup Uldred had led against the Templars and Irving. Some many had been turned into abominations because of Uldred's little foray into blood magic. Both he and Garrett had always loathed the bastard for his snobbish personality and acidic tongue, but even they were surprised by his actions.

"You're thinking about the Tower and Uldred, aren't you?" Anders nodded, "I don't suppose there's any way for me to guarantee you I won't become like that is there?" Garrett sighed and let go of Anders' waist. "You don't trust me."

"I do," Anders said quickly, trying to back track, "oh, sweetheart, I do. I'm just worried for you, what if someone tells the Knight Captain? If she thinks you're a blood mage, I don't know if your title or connections will be enough to protect you." Garrett nodded in understanding. A part of him wasn't sure that the full trust was still there, but Anders did have a good point. What if the Knight Commander did find out about the blood magic?

"Carver was the only Templar present and he won't betray us. I doubt the nobles would recognize it as anything other than a bit of magic. Besides, I think they were a bit distracted with the terror of being beheaded." Garrett tried to give the appearance of calm for Anders' sake. The healer was still tired from devoting so much of his energies to Garrett's recovery that he didn't want to add to his stress. "We do need to talk about that day. About the things we both said and did, but I don't want to do that right now. I think we can wait a bit."

"Yes, that's fine. I'd rather enjoy some time in the gardens with you anyway." There was still some unresolved tension between the two, but it was lighter than it had been in days.

After navigating the easiest way out of the house through the kitchen, the two took their time in the well maintained garden. When she had been alive, Leandra had worked hard to restore the gardens to their former glory when her father and grandfather had been among the city's most respected leaders. The trees and flowers had been overtaken by strangler vines when Garrett had been able to purchase the estate after his expedition, but with time color and life returned. Leandra had planted roses, lilies, irises, pansies, and half a dozen other plants Garrett could not name. When she had died, Orana had taken up the responsibility of tending to her late Mistress' plants. Garrett hadn't been able to bring himself to spend much time there since Leandra's murder, but knew it was probably the only place he could go outside without being mobbed.

They sat down on a sturdy stone bench at the center of the garden. A pair of blossoming cherry blossom trees stood on each side of the bench, shading them from the noon time sun. The petals drifted down like pale pink snow, landing occasionally on them or in the small lily pond close by. Garrett felt more tired than he had expected. The walk had taken a lot out of him and combined with the warm weather it was a good combination to inspire drowsiness. He rested his head on Anders' shoulder and sighed contentedly.

"I want to leave this place. I need to get away from this city for a bit." Anders tipped his head to rest it on top of Garrett's, the soft puffs of his breath tickling his neck a bit as he spoke.

"Where would you go?" Garrett shrugged.

"I don't know, somewhere warm and with a lot less Templars. Maybe Antiva? Or Rivain? Anywhere that's not Kirkwall would be nice." Garrett took Anders' hand in his and laced their fingers together, "it'd be even better if you went with me."

"Running off to some warm, exotic land with my favorite mage?" Anders laughed, "sounds like a fantastic idea. Though, maybe not Antiva. Too many assassins, they're like rats over there."

"Ok, not Antiva then." Garrett sat up to look Anders in the eyes, "but you mean it? You'd come away with me for a bit?" His voice was filled with hopeful trepidation that tugged at Anders' heart.

"Of course, love. You're stuck with me, remember?" Warmth pooled throughout Garret's body, filling him up from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Yes, they were bound to each other until the very end, whenever and whatever that might entail. Garrett let his actions speak for him as he reached up to cradle the back of Anders' head with his good hand and rested their foreheads together. Their breath mingled as they savored the moment. "I love you, my dearest heart." Anders reached up to caress the soft curling locks at the base of Garrett's skull. The hair there was always a bit curlier than the rest and it always wound itself around his fingers when he would run his hands through.

"My only love," Garrett said, "I'm never letting you go."

"Promise?" Garrett didn't get to answer as they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat to announce themselves. The two let go and looked to see that it was Carver. The young Templar seemed a bit uncomfortable having witnessed a private moment between his brother and his Warden. His cheeks were a bit red from embarrassment and he glanced about avoiding their gazes directly.

"Hello brother dear," Garrett teased, "coming to make sure I haven't run off?"

"Ha, I'd like to see you try," Carver teased back, "yes, I did come to see how you're doing, and I brought some guests." Carver was grinning from ear to ear as he stepped aside to reveal a man and a woman in Grey Warden uniforms. Garrett nearly fell off the bench when he saw the woman.

"Bethany?" Garrett asked, not quite sure his eyes were working, "Bethany, is it really you?" Bethany came up to him and threw her arms around his neck tightly. Her companion, Nathaniel Howe, was more reserved, instead giving a small smile and nod to Kirkwall's new Champion.

"You're alive," she said, "oh Andraste, you're still alive." She moved back to cup his face in her hands, "Stroud told us about the Qunari attacking Kirkwall and how you were right in the thick of it. I was so scared that you were dead that I got on the first boat out." Her voice cracked a bit and a few tears started streaking down her face, "if you…if you had died. I'd never be able to forgive myself for how I've acted towards you."

"Beth, it's ok. I'm alright," Garrett placed a hand over hers, he looked at Anders and Nathaniel Howe, "would you two mind if my siblings and I talked for a moment. Privately?" The two Wardens shook their heads and walked away to let the Hawkes speak alone. Garrett sat between the twins, his voice soft and low as he talked to both of them. He continued to hold Bethany's hand, giving a little squeeze every now and then to assure her that everything was fine.

"She's been a wreck since the message arrived," Nate told Anders as they watched from a distance, "she's barely slept or eaten in the last week. I was worried she was going to make herself sick." Nate adored Bethany and was willing to do anything to make her happy. He was the one that had suggested they go to Kirkwall to see her brother in person. Nate was concerned, but rumors of the Arishok's death had already reached his ears and he had faith in his fellow Warden's abilities as a healer. "He will recover, won't he? Bethany was concerned about any long term complications from his injuries."

"In time," Anders replied, "it's going to be a while before he's back to full health, but long term," Anders shrugged, "broken ribs, broken arm, bruised leg bones, cracked skull…he'll probably have some lingering pain for the rest of his life." Nate's eyes widened a bit at the number of injuries.

"Maker's sake, it's nothing short of a miracle he survived isn't it?" Anders nodded, "can't imagine how you felt seeing him duel the Arishok. Must have been horrible."

"Yes…that is the word for it," well, as close as any word could be. He could still hear the agonizing crack of bone meeting metal and stone when he laid down to rest. It would be a long time before that memory lost it's intensity. When he said nothing more on it, Nate let it drop. For all the ways he could be an annoying prick, he could also prove to be quite considerate of others. A laugh drew their attention back to the Hawke siblings. The three of them appeared to be sharing a private joke that had all three in stitches.

"…and that's when Father said 'well at least it isn't the dog this time'," Caver and Garrett said in unison.

"You two were so terrible!" Bethany giggled, "Maker, it's amazing Father didn't go gray because of you."

"What are you talking about? I was a model son," the twins just stared with matching raised eyebrows, "ok, fine, maybe model isn't the right word. But I wasn't the one that nearly burned down the house making dinner. Beth. Or the one who tried to sneak a girl into the hayloft. Carver."

"Oh no," Bethany interrupted with sharp jab of her finger to his stomach, "you don't get to point out our mistakes without admitting your own. Right, Carver?" Her twin nodded in agreement, "lets see..Oh, what about the time you ate the wrong mushrooms and ran around the woods convinced you could fly?

"Oh, what about the time he was putting new thatch on the barn and ended up falling through the roof?" Before either twin could continue, Garrett had wrapped arm around each in a headlock. The twins squirmed but were unable to break the hold.

"Ha!" he laughed as he relaxed his grip a bit, "big brother wins again. No…wait..stop!" Bethany had reached under his arm was tickling him mercilessly until he was forced to release her. Garrett tried to hold in an undignified sound that was a cross between a squeak and a giggle. He would have fallen over if not for Carver grabbing him just as he nearly toppled off the bench. "Maker's sake, mercy!"

"Oh, alright."

"Maker, they're all crazy," Nate said with a chuckle, "but we love them anyway."

"Yes," Anders agreed, laughing along, "yes we do."

~~

He had been putting off telling Garrett about Stroud and the maps for weeks now. He tried to tell himself it was because he didn't it to interfere with Garrett's recovery. While maybe partially true, it was a very small part of the whole. If he were to be truly honest, it was because he was not sure how Garrett would react. While he hadn't done anything to cause harm to Garrett, he had gone around his back to accomplish the task.

He couldn't put it off forever, eventually Varric would day something if he didn't. It would be better coming from Anders himself rather than a third party. So, he steeled himself and decided to tell Garrett everything once they were settled in for the night.

It was rather late by that point, Garrett had been playing catch up with Bethany and Carver for most the day and had continued well into the night. It was only when Bethany almost fell asleep in her chair that everyone called it a night and went to their separate rooms. Anders wondered if it was strange that all three siblings were finally sleeping under one roof again. They hadn't done so since they'd been living with their uncle. All he did know was that it made Garrett happy.

Garrett had a big, contented smile on his face as he stripped out of his clothes and prepared for bed. In the faint candlelight, it was almost as if his body was completely healed. Only a few bandages on his chest and arm remained and the last of the bruises were almost gone. His eyes were warm and full of love for the other mage. It made Anders' heart constrict and almost back out of his plans when Garrett leaned in to kiss him. Instead of accepting the kiss, he raised his hand to stop him.

"Garrett, we need to talk about something." Garrett's eye's widened a bit and he pulled back from the bed.

"Is something wrong? Did I…" Anders shook his head and stopped him before he could continue that train of thought. He stood up from the edge of the bed and took Garrett's hands.

"No, it's nothing you've done." He released a hard breath, forcing the uncertainty out of his body, "it's something I did."

"Is this about our argument before the duel? Because I've already forgiven you, we both said things we shouldn't have and I know you didn't weren't trying to hurt me. You were scared and…"

"No, it's not that either. Though, I'm glad to see you know I didn't mean those things." Garrett cocked his head, not unlike his mabari when it was confronted with something it didn't understand. "It's about Stroud and why I had to meet with him."

"Stroud? What did he do?" Garrett asked, already allowing his protective instincts come forward and assume the worst. His eyes hardened and his grip on Anders' hands tightened reflexively. It always surprised Anders when Garrett would switch from his usual good natured self that saw the best in everyone to a cool hard side that would rip the world apart to keep his loved ones safe. It was…intense. "Did he threaten you? I swear I'll tear him limb from limb…"

"Easy love," Anders tried to calm Garrett back down, already feeling the mage's power prickle with contained manic energy. It was like standing out in a field right before a thunderstorm ripped the sky open. Beautiful and awe-inspiring as only one of nature's unchained wonders could be. "He didn't threaten me, but he did ask me to do something for him. Well, the First Warden ordered actually, Stroud was just the messenger."

"Are you being sent away?" Garrett asked, the ire gone and replaced with something a bit more timid and uncertain. He could throw his power at someone if they threatened him and his own, but he couldn't fight an entire order because they did something he didn't approve off.

"No. It's not even about me, it's about you." Anders swallowed before taking the plunge, "I had to give them a copy of your map. The one of the Thaig where you found all those strange ruins and the idol."

"What?" There was a hard edge to Garrett's tone. "You gave them my map?"

"I copied it, yes." Garrett moved away and sat down at the writing desk. The candlelight rippled across his naked frame, showcasing the firm muscle shifting under tanned skin. Any other time it was enough to make Anders pant with want, but not when those muscles were so obviously tensed and ready to uncoil like an angry viper. Garrett was turned away from him, the long column of his neck stretched out as he rested his face in his hands.

"I should have destroyed it." Garrett said, still not looking at Anders, "I should have burned it the moment I made it back to the surface. No good can possibly come of anyone going to that place." He lifted his head and turned his head until Anders could his profile. "You have no idea what was down there. You may have heard Varric's story about our expedition, but there's so much you still don't know." He stood up and stalked back over to Anders. He didn't have the height advantage when they were standing, but even with his head tilted to look into the other's eyes his presence made Anders feel as though he were the one looking up. "I almost went insane down there in the dark." His words were strangely hollow, making something shift uneasily inside the other mage, "the red lyrium sang to me in the dark. It tried to tell me to harm my friends, my sister. And it knew…it knew things about me that it shouldn't have. That no one should have." Quick as a snake, Garrett had grabbed Anders by the shirt and pushed him up against a wall. "Do you see now why I never told anyone about it's location? It was never about the gold, I was protecting people from the things that make their home in that accursed place. Evil walks there Anders, and your fellow Wardens want to play explorer with it."

"I had no choice, Garrett. This came from the First Warden himself. If I said no, Maker knows what he would do." Anders said, a bit of his own anger rising. "The Wardens in the Anderfels aren't like the ones in Ferelden. They're cold and vicious and they'll do anything they want to get what they need. I wouldn't put it past the First Warden to hire Crows to get map if I had refused." Garrett's eyes flickered as he searched Anders' to make sure he was speaking the truth. He saw no lie and released Anders.

"What could possibly be so important to him about the Thaig? I saw no darkspawn there. Only demons and bones."

"I don't know. Maybe it's something to do with idol or the fact that there is no record of the place in Orzammar. All I do know is that the First Warden wants it badly, very, very badly. And you don't get between that man and his goals, the previous king of the Anderfels did and the First Warden managed to use his power to turn his own subjects against him." As he had grown up in the Anderfels, Anders knew the power the Wardens had over the people. It was their law the people followed, not the king's. "I wanted to tell you, I did, but I was forbidden by orders. But Varric saw everything and said he would tell you if I didn't."

"If Varric hadn't seen you," Garrett licked his lower lip nervously, "would you ever have told me? Or would I only be hearing about it once there was a body count?"

"I don't know. Honestly, I don't. I'm sorry, I wish I could say yes I would have, but I don't know." He reached out to touch Garrett, but the other mage flinched away and moved to stand in front of the fire place. He rested a hand on the mantle and let out a single harsh laugh.

"I suppose I should at least thank you for the honesty. I sometimes forget how much we've both changed over the years." He looked at the blonde who was still standing against the wall, "we aren't the same people we were all those years ago in the Tower. I'm an apostate who hid on a farm in the middle of nowhere and probably would have done nothing with my life if not for the Blight. If I had died…maybe you'd be doing something else with your life, with someone else. I don't know, but you wouldn't be stuck with a broken down plow horse."

"You can't possibly think of yourself as broken down horse," Anders said in dismay. Garrett said nothing, "How can you think that? Look at all you have done with your life, you saved your family from the Blight, kept them alive in the slums of Kirkwall, brought dignity to the refugees, Maker's breath, you saved a city from rampaging Qunari. How can you not see how extraordinary you are?" Garrett refused to look at him. Anders came up beside him and pulled him into his arms. The dark haired mage resisted for all of a second before giving in and tucking his head under Anders'.

"I'm not. I'm just me." Anders huffed and ran a hand over the hard ridge of Garrett's spine, feeling the boney knobs and scar tissue that told the story of Garrett's life.

"Just me, he says. Maker, you really don't see it do you?" He tilted his head to rest his nose in dark hair, breathing in the natural scent that always soothed him, "I meant it when I said you were the one bright thing in my life. Without you everything is just gray. No color, no light, no warmth, no cold, just one long streak of gray. That was life when you escaped the Tower." Garrett shifted and with some hesitancy, wrapped his arms around the blonde's still clothed waist.

"Anders…"

"I'm not finished, sweetheart." He pressed a kiss to the crown of that dark head, "you need to hear everything. You need to see how much you mean to me." He released a shuddering breath and continued, "the only thing that kept me going was the thought that if I could escape, I would find you again. I didn't care what I'd have to do, I just needed to find you. I got caught every time, but it was worth it because I kept getting closer. Then…" Anders tightened his grip on Garrett's shoulder and neck, "I found Lothering in ashes, and I thought you were dead. I thought the darkspawn had taken you away from me forever." His breathing hitched with a sob as he remembered one of the worst days of his life. The phantom ache of one's heart being ripped out that he had known so intimately briefly made itself felt once more before being banished back into memory. The natural warm scent of Garrett's hair and it's soft curl grounded him. It took a moment before he was able to rein his emotions back in and continue, "I stopped caring about my life, if you were gone, why keep going? What was the point?" Garrett's arms tightened and his hands clutched fistfuls of his shirt, "I think a part of me wanted the Templars to execute me. I probably would have let them if the Commander hadn't intervened. He made me join the Wardens and do something. He kept me going, but you," Anders tilted Garrett's chin so they were looking each other in the eye, "you're the one who brought me back to life." He pressed a kiss to that tanned forehead, "I thought I'd never see you again in this life, but here you are. Alive and whole, and these," he ran a hand over a patch of pale scar tissue, "these are aren't something to feel bad about. You earned these with your struggles and triumphs. You're more than Kirkwall's champion or an apostate or any other silly title people can think off. You're right, we're not the same people we were all those years ago, but that's not such a bad thing is it? We can finally be more than a pair of mages locked up in a Tower."

"No, it's not." Garrett answered, "but, it still scares me. The Wardens have already made you do something you hated and tried to force you to secrecy. What happens when it's something more than a map?" Pressed so tightly together, Anders could feel Garrett's heart pounding with war drum intensity even through the fabric of his shirt. His own echoed just beneath his sternum, threatening to burst out at any second.

"I don't know," the two men held each other, both trembling slightly from the knowledge that there were forces outside their control that could tear them apart. It might no longer be Templars, but something with just as much power and resources. "We run?" He had spent most of his life running from something, it was only recently he'd been running towards someone. And there were far worse fates than sprinting across the horizon at your soulmate's side.

"So long as you go with me." Garrett sighed and gave a closed kiss to Anders' lips, "I'm still pissed with you, but I wasn't lying when I said I was never letting go. Never, I promise."

~~

A week had passed since Nate and Bethany had arrived in Kirkwall before Garrett was able to leave the house for a short trip down to the markets. He had been planning on building a new staff now that he could no longer use his Father's. The core of the staff had been dragonthorn, but Garrett had decided to branch out and try black oak instead. One of his contacts had managed to procure some and even a few crystals he could embed in the wood to enhance certain spells.

He had been almost bouncing with excitement at the prospect of getting started. Working with his hands, especially when it came to working with magic, was something he loved. There was a thrill to creating something that could channel the raw forces of nature and will. He and Bethany had decided they would make a day of it, drop by the market to get the materials and browse around for a bit. Then they could head down to Lowtown for a pint at the Hangman to see Varric and Merrill. Maybe watch the sunset from the docks.

The two had taken along Garrett's mabari and left Nate and Anders to an intense game of Wicked Grace. The two barely looked up from their cards when Garrett and Bethany left. The market was bustling with people, loud and crowded as if the Qunari had never attacked. Garrett was talking with the Orlesian merchant, Jean Luc, who had a fine piece of black oak for him. He had been testing it's balance when he heard the sharp whoosh of a bolt pass by his ear. The bolt landed with a sharp thuck in the stone wall beside Jean Luc's stall. The Orlesian man had screamed and set off a chain reaction of people running about and trampling each other. Garrett tossed a few sovereigns on top of Jean Luc's chest of goods and whirled around to face his enemy.

There were five dwarves dressed in dark cloaks. They were all heavily armed with daggers and crossbows. Bethany had raised a shield around herself to fend off another round of bolts.

"Rett," she shouted, "are you alright?" She knew his leg was healed, but his arm and ribs were still healing. Archon had taken down one of their attackers, grabbing one by the arm and nearly ripping it off as he shook his muzzle back and forth.

"Could be better. Be even better once we've taken these thugs down." Garrett slammed down the end of the black oak staff against the stone street and sent out a blast of kinetic energy to knock the remaining dwarves off their feet. Bethany gave a small whistle of appreciation.

"You've been practicing. May I?"

"All yours." Bethany lowered her shield and stomped her foot hard on the ground. The ground shook and a ridge of solid stone rose up in serpentine fashion and slammed into three of the dwarves.

"Seems I'm not the only one." They were so focused on showing off to each other that one managed to slip away and pop up in a puff of smoke behind Bethany. The dwarf cried out 'the Blood of the Hawke' before slicing Bethany's forearm with one of his daggers.

"Beth!" Blood poured from the wound, Bethany cried out and grabbed her arm. The dwarf got a whiff of her blood and backed off. It charged at Garrett instead. It didn't get five feet before Archon slammed against the dwarf's side. Archon pinned him down and clamped his jaws shut on the dwarf's shoulder. The mabari growled and held on as the dwarf thrashed underneath. "Good boy," Garrett pet the mabari and knelt down to face the dwarf. The dwarf's hood had fallen back to reveal a pale face with prominent dark veins around blood shot eyes. He recognized the symptoms. The dwarf was Tainted. "Who are you, why did you attack us?"

"The blood," the dwarf shouted, still trying to twist out of the mabari's jaws, "he wants the blood of the Hawke."

"Blood of the Hawke? You stabbed my sister for her blood?" The dwarf scowled and spat at Garrett. Garrett responded with a sharp slap across the dwarf's face. It didn't deter the dwarf from snarling at him.

"The blood is tainted. It will not appease the master." Garrett gave Bethany a look as he saw the dark blood dripping from her wound. It wasn't the black sludge of a darkspawn, but it was darker than normal human blood.

"Master? What's your master's name?" Garrett wrapped a hand around the dwarf's throat and hauled him up, "tell me now!" The dwarf laughed and bit down on a pill he had hidden under his tongue. "No! Damnit! Don't you die before you give me his name." The dwarf foamed at the mouth as he convulsed and went limp. "No!" Garrett snapped, "no, no, no!" He dropped the dwarf and gave the body a hard kick.

"Garrett," Bethany stopped him before he could deliver another futile blow. "He's dead, stop it."

"He hurt you Beth," Garett said, "I can't let them get away with it."

"It' a scratch. I've been hurt far worse than this in my time with the Wardens." Garrett spluttered and his eyes widened almost comically. "Don't start, I'm a grown woman and I can take care of myself."

"Yes, but I'm still your big brother. It's my job to protect you and threaten your boyfriends." Bethany rolled her eyes, "and what if it wasn't just a scratch? What if he had cut your throat? You could have died because I wasn't paying attention."

"Then it's my fault too. Neither of us was paying attention, but it doesn't matter now. Those things could still be out there…" both went pale and remembered there was more than two people that carried the 'blood of the Hawke'."

" **CARVER!** "


	28. The Blackened Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've always thought that blood magic would have a negative effect on it's caster. It's an easier form of magic that doesn't require all the years of training (as we saw with Johane Harriman) that could be used as a shortcut. I'd imagine it has an addictive quality to it, like heroine or cocaine, that makes it difficult for mages who have used to give it up. Some addicts feel as though the drugs opened a door to their more base impulses and desires. In this chapter, I explored the idea with Garrett

_**'** _ _**The night is long,** _

_**And the path is dark.** _

_**Look to the Sky,** _

_**For one day soon,** _

_**The dawn will come.'** _

**\- The Dawn Will Come (Traditional Chantry Hymn, writer unknown)**

Garrett watched the ancient prison burn in the distance. He wasn't certain what had caused the fire, but he felt that there were Grey Wardens working behind the scenes to destroy any evidence of their unholy secret. Janeka was dead at Hawke's hand and Larius had disappeared. It was tempting to hunt down the man who had threatened his poor mother all those years ago and forced Malcolm to pass on a terrible burden. It was his concern for Anders that prevented his hunt. That _thing_ had reached into his mind and tormented him, nearly taking his sanity and free will. He would not allow his desire for vengeance to overtake his duty to his love.

Once they had made some progress from the tower, he had gone ahead of the others, wanting a moment of silence to reflect on all he had learned in the last few days. About himself, about his family, about the things that lurked beneath the world's placid surface. He couldn't help but shake his head as all these revelations swarmed his mind. There truly was no such thing as coincidence, only the fickle hand of fate stringing him along until he reached the end of whatever path he was meant to travel.

~~~

Bethany and Garrett had hurried from the Hightown market to take a ferry to the Gallows. They were both still covered in sweat and grime from their encounter with the crazed dwarves, but didn't care. They needed to get to Carver and warn him. They must have made quite the sight running up the stairs to the courtyard, as the Templar recruit who was posted at the gate gave them a strange look and almost refused them entry. He was persuaded to step aside when a bright gold sovereign was pushed in to his hand. The courtyard was mostly empty except for a few mages and the Tranquil merchants. Garrett saw Alain talking with a group of other mages, among them was Grace and Aeryn. They all stopped talking the moment they saw him, eyes fixed with hard expressions that made Garrett uncomfortable. He ignored them and went to speak with the only two Templars he could see.

"Ser Thrask," Garrett saw the familiar red bearded Templar standing with the Knight Captain. The two were in the midst of a discussion and it didn't appear to be about a pleasant one. Cullen appeared to be displeased with whatever Thrask had said and dismissed the other with a wave of his hand.

"Serah Hawke," Thrask said, his usual tone of amusement subdued, "I was wondering when you would arrive." He inclined his head and motioned for Garrett to follow.

"You are here for your brother?" The Hawke siblings were led to a different wing of the Gallows that was set aside as living quarters for the Templars. The harshness of the stone hall was softened by a number of tapestries depicting the Chantry's history and a few thick rugs that muffled the sounds of their heavy boots. "There was an incident earlier with several dwarves, Carta dwarves I believe."

"Is he alright Serah?" Bethany asked.

"He got a little roughed up, but the Carta fared far worse." For once, Garrett felt grateful towards the Templars. They could be a righteous bunch of bastards, but they took care of their own. They stopped in front of a closed door, "Ser Carver," Thrask knocked and pushed open the door, "you have visitors." Carver was sitting a bed and wrapping up his leg.

"Beth? What are you…" Bethany sat down next to him and took a strip of gauze and started cleaning up the small cuts on her twin's hands. Garrett let out a small sigh of relief. Carver was their father's son through and through, he could take a punch and hit back twice as hard. The Carta hadn't known what they were getting into dealing with Malcolm Hawke's progeny.

"Serah Hawke, might I have a moment?" Garrett nodded and followed the Templar a bit down the hall and just out of hearing range for the twins. The Templar regarded him for a moment, stroking his thick red beard thoughtfully. "You're a mage." If there was one thing that Garrett liked about Thrask, it was his ability to be blunt.

"Yes." There was no point in lying, the whole city was aware of his mage status. "Is that a problem?"

"Depends on who you ask, serah. The mages under my care certainly don't think so. And you have made a few friends among my Order." Garrett had saved the lives of several Templars over the years. There was also the more personal matter of Thrask's daughter Olivia. The girl had been captured by the same slavers as Feynriel. Garrett had not arrived in time to save her from becoming an abomination and had been forced to put her down. He had left out the part about her turning into a monster when giving Thrask her letter and the Chantry amulet she had been wearing. It was kinder to allow the man to remember as she had been rather than the thing she had become.

"And what is your opinion?" Thrask reached under the collar of his tunic and pulled out his daughter's pendant.

"You discovered the truth about my daughter and did not use it against me."

"I was only doing the right thing." Garrett shrugged, "I know she loved you and wanted to protect you. I couldn't save her, so I might as well fulfill her last wish." Thrask smiled and let out a small laugh.

"The right thing yes, but not the easy one. Most people in this world prefer the latter. But not you, Serah." Thrask clapped a hand companionably on Garrett's shoulder, "you may be a mage, but you are good man first. That is something truly worthy of respect. You will always have a supporter in me."

"You honor me," Garrett said, thanking the older man, "I am glad my brother has you for a comrade."

"Your brother is a skilled swordsmen, better than most of his peers," Thrask acknowledged as they walked back down the corridor to the twins, "he slew three of the dwarves single handed. The Knight Captain finished the other two. You should speak to him before you leave. He found a letter on one of the would be assassins, perhaps you can use it to find the bastard who put the hit on your kin."

"I will do that. Carver," he called, "I want you to come back to the estate for a bit until we figure out whose behind the attacks."

"I can't just leave brother," Carver stood up with a slight limp, "I have a duty to the Order and the mages." Garrett frowned, but did not fight his brother. A hot spike of anger sliced through him as he considered ignoring his brother's protests and dragging him home to where he could keep an eye on him. If those thugs came back, he would be ready for them. But, Carver was right, he had taken sacred vows when he had joined the Order. He couldn't run off following his brother on another wild adventure without receiving permission from his superior.

"Very well, then just promise you will be vigilant."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem. I'll be sleeping with one eye open until this is over." Bethany gave her twin a hug and quick kiss to the cheek before leaving with her big brother. Garrett and Thrask shared a silent, knowing look as he left. Thrask would guard the younger man in his brother's place. No harm would come to him under his watch. Leaving the two Templars, Garrett was not eager to speak with the Knight Captain, but he did need that note.

He found him back in his usual spot in the courtyard. The Templar appeared to be deep in thought when Garrett approached him. The two men eyed each other warily before either said anything.

"Knight Captain Cullen," Garrett gave a small inclination of his head in respect of the man's rank. The Knight Captain was courteous enough to return it.

"Serah Hawke, or should I call you Champion now?"

"Hawke, please. Champion, it's a bloody awful title. Too pretentious for my tastes." To his relief, the Knight Captain actually smiled. His blue eyes crinkled a bit in amusement and suddenly he seemed a handful of years younger. It put Garrett at ease and he too found himself smiling. "Ser Thrask said one of the dwarves had a note on them concerning the attack. Can I see it?" Cullen pulled out a small dirty scroll and gave it to him.

"Your brother was worried the Carta had come after you as well. I was just planning to send a message when you arrived. It seems there was a concerted effort to kill all of your family, any idea why?" Garrett considered lying to Cullen and telling him that he was as much in the dark as him. He wasn't sure much good could come of working with such a high ranking member of the order. Cullen seemed to be a decent fellow, but he did have a les mage friendly stance than Thrask and had voiced support of Meredith more than once. But, this was a matter beyond mages and Templars so he might put aside his beliefs if it meant there were more potential victims.

"I'm not certain they were here to kill us." The Knight Captain raised an eyebrow, "they were able to land a hit on Bethany, but lost interest in her once they saw her blood."

"What? Why would they care about blood? If they were humans, I might suspect blood magic, but not dwarves."

"I don't know, they kept screaming about the 'blood of the Hawke'. Though apparently they only want it if it's not be changed by any rituals or magic." Cullen looked faintly disturbed. The color drained form his face and he shuddered as memories of crazed blood mages and abominations returned.

"No good can come of this then. Blood magic can only be used to death and destruction. If you had seen the Tower in Ferelden, you'd agree." Garrett swallowed. Yes, he had heard of the horror Uldred and his minions had reeked before the Hero of Ferelden had stepped in. Had Anders not been imprisoned in the deepest part of the Tower, he might have suffered a similar fate.

"I heard what happened Ser Cullen, and I swear to you that whatever these bastards are planning, I won't let them use my blood for anything. Enough people have died because of blood magic," in his mind, he could see his mother and the things that Quentin had done to her, "I won't let it continue. You have my word."

"Oddly enough, I believe you." Cullen said, the Knight Captain crossed his arms and straightened a bit, "you're a mage Serah, but I can't deny you've done good things for the people of Kirkwall. The Knight Commander might think it better if you were confined to the Gallows, but I am not so certain. It has put me in conflict with some of my beliefs, an apostate running free with a title and power, but you do not seem to have the same goals as a magister."

"I can promise you that I have no desire to be like a magister." Garrett's voice softed as he continued, "I too have seen the terrible things blood magic will do. What it did to those poor women and my mother." Cullen gave him a sympathetic look. The twisted abominations that Quentin had created were a lesson for Templars and mages. Too many had died before the man had been put down like a rabid dog. Templars, mages, and innocents, none had been safe from him.

"Yes, I suppose you know better than most. I am truly sorry for your loss. I never met her, but your brother always spoke so fondly of her that I can only imagine how kind and generous she was in person."

"Thank you. I'm afraid my sister and I need to return home, undoubtedly word has already spread through the city and I'd prefer if our better halves heard about it from us." Garrett could already see Anders panicking and putting together a search party. Anders would never let him leave the house again if he let him have his way. It was also a pretty good bet that Nate would try the same thing with Bethany. Thankfully he was wrapped tight around her little finger and could never deny her anything.

"I shall not keep you then. Happy hunting, serah."

~~~

Anders and Nate were waiting for them when the two Hawkes came home. They had heard about the commotion in the market and had been getting ready to call on the city guard for help when Garrett and the twins walked through the door. Nate had been so relieved he'd dropped his bow and wrapped Bethany into a protective embrace.

"Maker," Nate said as he pulled back, "we heard that someone tried to ambush the Champion and his sister in the market, but we weren't sure if it was more than gossip."

"Garrett," Anders asked, "are you alright? Are your injuries…"

"Fine," Garrett huffed with some irritation. He did love the other mage, but sometimes he treated him as though he were made of glass rather than a full grown man. At times, it was rather sweet, but a few weeks of it left Garrett wanting nothing more than to hightail to Sundermont. "I'm fine, Anders. Just a bit dusty. The bastards were after our blood, they weren't interested in killing us."

"Your blood, not mine," Bethany interjected, "they said mine was tainted, so they went after you instead." She gave Nate a weak smile when he caught her arm and examined the gash, "looks like the Taint does have some use after all."

"Doesn't matter," Garrett said, still bristling with anger. He had retained his composure at the Gallows, not wanting to set of any Templars who might see an angry mage the same thing as a blood mage, "they still hurt you and tried to do the same to Carver. In my city, on my watch." Bethany and Anders tried to calm him down, but it only made him angrier. He didn't want to be calm and rational anymore, he had been playing that part all day. It was the role he always assumed and at the moment he was utterly sick of it. He stormed out of the house before anyone could stop him. He could feel the rage burning under his skin. It called for him to unleash his fury on the nearest living thing. Not wanting his family to take the brunt of his anger, he went out to find one of the numerous gangs that still prowled the darkened alleys.

It didn't take him long to find a group of the Followers of She. They were lurking around the Rose, hoping to ambush a few drunken merchants and pilfer their heavy pockets. Garrett dispatched them with a few fireballs and a burst of kinetic energy that sent several of the thieves flying. His anger had dissipated a bit, but there was something else in it's place. He wanted to hunt more of them down, make more of them bleed and hurt and…die? He dropped his staff as he grappled with the dark impulses.

He had never felt such blood lust in his life. Garrett was well versed in frustration and anger, but this was darker and much more savage.

"Hawke? Hawke, what's happened, you're covered in blood. Are you hurt my friend?" Garrett spun around to see Fenris. The elf must have been heading down to Lowtown for a pint at the Hanged Man when he heard the commotion. Garrett glanced down to see that his arms were indeed covered in blood. Not his own, he knew that, and it was splattered across his shirt and boots.

"Fenris," Garrett croaked, "somethings wrong with me. I…I can't stop it. The anger," his voice dropped below it's normal baritone and came out more as a hiss than words, "it's burning me. I can't stop, I want to find more of the bastards and rip their heads off. They hurt Bethany and Carver…I want to make them beg for mercy." To his credit, Fenris didn't flinch. His pale eyes narrowed as he glanced over the bodies scattered across the square.

"I see. We should go Hawke, it wouldn't be good for anyone to see you covered in blood." Fenris led Garrett back to the crumbling mansion he called home. He helped clean the blood and gore from Garrett's face and hands. The water in the shallow bowl had to be replaced twice before the last of the red splatter was gone. The tunic was beyond saving, being completely soaked and stinking of oxidized iron, so Garrett tossed it into the fireplace to destroy the evidence of his fight. A little mage fire reduced it to ashes in seconds. The physical evidence of so much death was gone, but Garrett could still feel the hot, wet dripping sensation of another's lifeblood on his hands. He had killed before, but there was always restraint and the chance of mercy in his previous fights. There had been none tonight.

"I'm not an angry man, Fenris." Garrett sat down at the table where he and Fenris had played so many rounds of cards and shared a number of wine bottles. Tonight though, no such frivolity was to be had.

"I know. But all men have some amount of anger in them." Fenris considered his friend before continuing, "this isn't just because someone attacked you and the twins." Garrett shook his head.

"No, that's part of it, but there is more. It's been like this since the duel with the Arishok. Most of the time, it's just a simmering feeling at the back of my mind and I can ignore it. It's as if there was a door in my head that got kicked open when I…when I used blood magic." Fenris stiffened, "I'm not possessed. But I don't feel…completely me either."

"Is there a way to prove there's no demonic influence?" Garrett shook his head. He could perhaps have a mage enter his dreams as he had done with Feynriel, but he didn't have nearly enough lyrium or any firsthand knowledge of conducting Dalish rituals.

"I don't know. I've been in the presence of demons before when I walked in the Fade and this doesn't feel like that." As a Harrowed mage, he was more sensitive to demons than others. He could sometimes sense them when he dreamed. The demons usually stayed away from him, but sometimes they would creep around the fringes of his dreams as if they were unable to get closer. He never questioned why, only thanked the Maker that his sleep was undisturbed. Fenris said nothing, just stood up and left the room. He returned a few minutes later with a dusty wine bottle and a pair of glasses. Using a knife, he uncorked the wine and filled each glass to the brim.

"I think we could both use a drink, my friend." They clinked the glasses together and drank. Hawke found the wine to be a bit sweet for his preferences as it had a chocolate after taste. Fenris had fondness for sweets, so it was no surprise he liked the sweeter wines of Tevinter and Antiva. Garrett would rather a mug of dark ale as he was a Ferelden philistine, but alcohol was alcohol.

"Yes," Garrett drained his glass to the last drop, "I needed that, thank you." Fenris tried to pour him a second glass, but declined. "Walking through Hightown shirtless is one thing, but shirtless and drunk would probably not go over to well with guards."

"Hmm, you have a point." Fenris set his glass down, "Perhaps you should return home, no doubt your sister and the mage are worried about you."

"The mage has a name Fenris," Garrett rolled his eyes, "and do I need to remind you that I'm also a mage?" Fenris and Anders did not get along most of the time, except when Garrett's life was at stake. Fenris had made it clear in prior conversations that he didn't think Anders was good enough for Garrett. Fenris was convinced it could only end in heartbreak, the other mage had already done it once to him and with no Tower walls around them, what was there to stop him from simply moving on? Garrett had put his foot down after that and there was no more discussion of the topic. It didn't stop Fenris from making nasty comments about the other mage, but at least he had ceased his talk of Anders' eventual abandonment.

"You're an exception. You're not like the other mages, you've never used your power to advance yourself." It was true, Garrett had not used his power to advance his position, only the work of his hands and character.

"I've seen what happens when one abuses their power. It's not pretty." Garrett felt a wave of revulsion when he thought of Uldred and his failed rebellion, of Leandra and Quentin's desecration. "I pray that I never have to see it again."

"Maker willing, neither of us will." Fenris set the empty wine bottle aside and stood up to lay a hand on Garrett's bare shoulder, "I am here for you, my friend. I will help you fight whatever it is that tries to force your hand."

"You have my thanks," Garrett laid a hand on top of Fenris', "I don't know what will come of it, but it comforting to know I have friends who will help me along the way."

"I am ever at your side," Fenris gave him a warm look, his usual serious face softened, "all you need do is ask."

~~~

The house was quiet when he returned. His mabari was sleeping in front of the fireplace in the entry hall. It awoke briefly when he entered and walked over to give him a snuffly wet kiss before laying back down on the plush pillow Orana had set aside for it once Anders had started sharing his bed. He scratched behind it's ears and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. The door was cracked open and he could see that there was still a few candles lit. Anders was asleep, but had kept the sheets pulled back for him. Garrett quietly shut the door and walked over to the bed. He stripped off his remaining clothes and laid down on his side of the large bed. He rolled onto his side to face the slumbering mage beside him. Anders' face was slackened in sleep with his mouth slightly open and eyes twitching beneath closed lids as he dreamed.

He brushed aside a few stray blonde hairs to tuck them behind his ear, causing Anders to blink awake. His brow creased and then relaxed when he saw who was lying next to him.

"Hello," Garrett said, feeling guilty he had caused Anders to worry.

"Hello, sweetheart." Anders reached up and stroked along his cheekbone. "Are you alright?"

"I'm better. I'm sorry if I worried you." Anders gave him a kiss and maneuvered him so that he could wrap an arm around his shoulder and draped a leg over Garrett's hip. Garrett looped an arm around the other's ribs and tucked his head against the hollow of Ander's neck. When they lay together like this, Garrett could let go of his protector role for a bit. Having taken up the role of patriarch after Malcolm's death, it was rare for Garrett to let someone else take care of him. Generally, he would get annoyed by anyone trying to fuss over him, but as with most things, Anders proved an exception. At that moment, he didn't mind his Warden trying to shield him from all the bad things that waited just outside their room.

"What's going on, love? Somethings bothering you and it's not the Carta." Anders stroked the thick black hair at the nape of Garrett's neck and sent a subtle pulse of healing magic to sooth the other mage. He could feel it working when tension began seeping away and Garrett's arm loosed.

"I don't like not being able to protect the people I love. Beth and Carver both got hurt and I don't know why the Carta came after us. It has something to do with our father and his blood, but beyond that I have no idea." Garrett let out a small puff of air against Anders' chest and told him about the note Cullen had found on one of the bodies. It had instructed the Carta to capture the children of Malcolm Hawke and not to waste their precious blood. Blood, it said, was the key. "I can handle people threatening and attacking me, but when it's the twins, or you… I just get so angry." Garrett's hand tightened into a fist against Anders' back. He could feel the other mage beginning to shake with the force of his emotions. "I've been angry before, but not like this. It's been worse since the duel with the Arishok."

"Since you used blood magic?" Anders asked, also feeling some of the same tension building inside. Garrett didn't say anything, just nodded against his chest. Anders let out a choking sound and tightened his hold around Garrett until the other mage was certain his ribs were going to crack again. Anders had been dreading something like this. He had seen flashes of something not quite in character with Garrett for almost two weeks. The night he had told him about the maps, it had been like someone else had taken control for a brief moment before Garett was himself once more. He had tried to blame it on his own actions and the stress of recent events, but it hadn't felt right. Now, he began to understand. Garrett was dealing with the after effects of using a forbidden form of magic.

Blood magic was fueled by a mage's darker emotions, anger, hate, greed, lust, and despair. It was also notoriously addictive. Many a good mage had been undone by such an addiction. They would try to stop, but the darkness had managed to get a claw into them and it became an unbearable itch they had to scratch. Garrett had been acting in desperation and fury when he had tapped into that source of power. It had saved his life, but opened a doorway to something terrible. A demon? No, if he were indeed possessed the two other mages in the house would have sensed it by now. The open door could attract unwanted attention, but Garrett was still in control of his own mind for the moment. "Maker," he whispered against the top of Garrett's head, "I'll fix this, I'm a healer, damnit. I should know how to fix this."

"This isn't your fault, it's mine. I messed up and I'll fix it." Garrett leaned his head back so they could look each other in the eyes, "we'll get through this. I can do this if I have you by my side."

"You do, you always do." Anders rolled on his back, taking Garrett with him so that he ended up laying on top of him. He spread his legs so Garrett could lie comfortably between them and tugged him down for kiss. He stroked the back of Garrett's neck with one hand as he ran the other up and down the mage's right flank, reveling in the firm skin instead of bandages. Garrett cupped Anders' face with both hands as they kissed slowly, taking time to enjoy the sensation of shared breath and tongues sliding together with practiced ease. When the blonde tipped his head back to expose his long, pale throat. Garrett bit down slightly on the adam's apple, not hard enough to leave marks, but just enough that the edge of teeth against the skin. He nuzzled his neck, knowing how much Anders loved the feel of his beard. Garrett rolled his hips against Anders', their firm flesh pressing and sliding together as both began panting with arousal. Long legs wrapped around Garrett's waist and pulled him close. "Maker, you feel good," he raked his nails down Garrett's back when the other mage reached between them and took them both in hand. It was a bit rough with the dry skin as he stroked them together, but it seemed to be what both needed at that moment. Garrett gazed down into amber orbs that were blown wide, the pupil nearly taking the entire eye.

"Roll over love," Garrett's voice had dropped half an octave. Anders felt something inside tighten with anticipation when he heard that husky voice. He rolled onto his stomach and peered over his shoulder as Garrett straddled his thighs and pressed himself against his back. The dark haired mage was shorter, but his broader frame and dense muscle mass made him heavy. He kept most of his weight off Anders, but let his chest press against his back as his arms bracketed his sides.

Garrett nipped the top of Anders' left ear playfully before kissing him again. The angle was a bit awkward, but the feel of being covered by a strong, warm body made it nice. The slight rasp of Garret's chest hair rubbed against his upper back as the dark haired mage moved against him. Garrett buried his nose in golden red hair and inhaled the scent of elfroot and soap before leaving a trail of open mouth kisses against the back of Anders' neck. "Maker," he let out a breath against the dip between his shoulders, "I love you, my gorgeous healer." He ran both hands down Ander's sides, causing the muscles to spasm and twitch as he hit a few of the blonde's more ticklish spots. He moved to kneel between the other mage's legs and nudged them a bit further apart with his knees. Garrett leaned down to kiss the small of Anders' back right above the curve of his ass.

"Garrett," Anders moaned as his legs were pushed wider apart. "What are you…"

"Shh," Garrett moved up to kiss a trembling shoulder blade, "you've taken care of me so well these last few weeks, let me do the same." He rubbed his bearded chin against Anders neck one more time before crawling back down his body. He spread the two firm globes of his lover's backside to reveal the small furled opening between them. He ran the tip of a finger over the ring of muscle, eliciting more moans from the blonde. He repeated this action twice more before replacing his finger with his tongue.

"Andraste's flaming knickers." Garrett chuckled and laid a hand down on the blonde's lower back to keep him in place before once more giving the twitching muscles a swipe with the flat of his tongue. Slowly, he could feel the muscles relaxing under his ministrations. He hadn't tried preparing his lover in this manner, but the noises it brought out were more than enough for Garrett to consider using it again in the future.

He sat back and grabbed a small pot of oil from the nightstand. He liberally coated a finger and reached down to cup the blonde's balls as he ran a thumb over his anus. He gently fondled them before running a finger up his perineum and slowly working the tip in. The muscles were already loosened a bit, allowing his finger to slide in with minimal resistance. "Garrett, yes," Anders rocked his hips back to move with the finger moving inside him. "More, please, now." Garrett slowly worked in a second and then a third. When he curled his fingers he hit the bundle of nerves that set off a burst of sparks behind Anders' eyes as a jolt of pleasure travelled up and down his spine. Garrett rubbed the spot again, drawing a heavy whimper from the blonde's lips. "Need you, please, please," Anders babbled underneath him as Garrett withdrew his fingers and grabbed the pot to coat his own aching member. He gripped Anders' hips and got him up on his hands and knees. He reached between the older mage's trembling thighs and gave his neglected cock a couple firm strokes before positioning himself and pushing in.

"Oh, sweet Maker," Garrett gasped out as he bottomed out. The heat of his lover's tight body nearly undid him right there. Anders inner muscles contracted and tightened around him as he adjusted to the member impaling him. Garrett leaned forward to rest his chest against Anders' sweat soaked back. He wrapped an arm tight around Anders' heaving frame and slowly started to move in and out. "You feel amazing," Garrett panted against the blonde's neck, biting down on his shoulder. With a small change in the angle of his hips, he found his lover's sweet spot.

"There, yes," Anders' back arched sharply under Garrett as he found it again, nearly tossing the other mage of him. Garrett had to readjust his grip on the on the blonde, tightening his arm as he began speeding his thrusts. "Harder," Garrett growled low in his throat as he pushed Anders' legs a bit further apart and began moving faster and deeper. He could feel a trickle of sweat dripping down the back of his neck from his exertions, his whole body felt on fire with need. He reached down and began pulling at his lover's cock in time with his thrusts, bringing him to his peak with a few twists of his wrists and thumb rubbing over the slit. His body stiffened and tightened around Garrett to a near painful squeeze and with a few last jerky thrusts he spilled himself inside the blonde.

Keeping his arm around Anders, he laid him on his side with Garrett still in him. Garrett knew they should clean up, but didn't want to separate just yet. He ran a possessive hand across Anders' side as he pressed warm, chaste kisses to the back of his neck. "I love you, mageling. Love you so much." Anders felt a pleased rumble from Garrett's chest reverberating against his back. It was almost a purr. He smiled as he reached back to stroke the sweat soaked mane so close to his ear.

"Love you too. Forever." Garrett gave a groan as he felt himself slip from his lover's body. He grabbed a rag from the table beside the bed to clean them up. Anders hissed as the cloth brushed against tender skin. Garrett apologized with a tender kiss to his temple. Garrett tossed the cloth aside once he was done and rolled onto his side. Anders came up to spoon him, wrapping a tired arm around Garrett's waist. The younger mage took his hand and entwined it with his own, placing it just over his heart.

"Rest love, I'll be here when you wake tomorrow." Garrett's eyes slid shut as he felt one last kiss against the base of his skull. He tried to mumble a thanks, but it turned into a snore before the first syllable passed his lips.


	29. Freedom's Call

The morning after the attack, Garrett had decided to visit of a few his contacts in the underground. The Coterie had nothing to offer except spiteful comments about the Carta trying to encroach on their territory and the river of blood that would flow. He went next to Johann, but found him just as puzzled and a bit amused at the most recent attempt on his life. The mercenary couldn’t promise him anything except to keep an ear to the ground. It was Varric who was finally able to put some traction into the investigation. The Carta had been quietly working with the dwarven merchant guild for years, but there had been nothing but silence from their people for weeks. The last any had heard from them, there was a job up north that had required their most skilled rogues. Then, nothing. For them to suddenly show up and attack one of Kirkwall’s most prominent, it made the hair stand up on the back of Varric’s neck. He knew a few people who also knew a few people, so he let those people work behind the scenes and gather what they could. Garrett didn’t like the idea of sitting around and waiting, but there wasn’t anything else he could do.

In the meantime, he concentrated on building a new staff. The black oak base had proved very effective at casting his preferred primal and elemental spells. With six carved clear quartz crystals and a single ruby, he was able to refine his aim and better control the amount of power behind each spell. Once that base was finished, he set about making the structural reinforcements. Black oak was a heavy, thick wood that could take a large amount of damage from blunt force before cracking, but it could snap under a sharp blade. To combat the problem, Garrett decided to use volcanic aurum. It was a light metal that formed under the high pressure and heat of an active volcano. The high iron content made it appear black as night and smell ever so slightly of a forest fire.

He was able to get a good deal on several blocks of the raw metal from a smith who had set up near one of the Lowtown foundries. The smith had offered to make the plates and rings he wanted to put on the staff, but Garrett declined. He preferred to do the work himself when it came to crafting his tools and weapons. His father had encouraged such an attitude, often commenting how it was the smith who best knew the strengths and weaknesses of his craft. He thought that Circle mages were generally at a disadvantage as they rarely crafted their own staves. They were competent yes, but many never fully unlocked the potential of their power as the staves were generic and not created for individual talents.    

After hearing about the Carta attack, Aveline had given him permission to use the forge just outside the barracks to make the new aurum plates that would cover the staff’s black oak core. She was surprised to see him arrive with Carver and Anders wearing a thick, blackened leather apron and gloves. He had never told her about his time as a black smith’s assistant. When asked, he shrugged it off. When living in a small farming community far from any decent market, the people learned a variety of skills to get by.

He and Carver had both been apprenticed under Arl Bryland’s blacksmith, Mikhael Dryden. The man was a gruff, hot tempered individual who had no problem shouting at his customers and employers. When the Arl’s militia had required all new armor and weapons, the smith found himself in need of assistance. Malcolm Hawke had caught wind of Mikhael’s need and sent both boys to him. Mikhael made it clear he had no desire to take on either boy when he first met them. He thought they were dumb farm boys who wouldn’t know which end of the hammer to use. He changed his mind after Garrett shook his hand in greeting. The smith felt the hard calluses and thick muscles of his hands and forearms and decided to reconsider. Mikhael respected people that had hardened themselves like stone and metal. If nothing else, he had a couple of strong backed pack mules.

Carver stayed on for a year before he joined the Arl’s militia. The elder brother stayed for four, at which point Mikhael left Lothering and traveled onward to Gwaren. Garrett would never have the skill of Mikhael Dryden, as there were no dwarves to teach him the ways of molding metal and stone to his will, but he was competent at fixing weapons and the occasional broken piece of farming equipment.

Garrett and Carver set up the forge, adding the in the coal and making sure there is a large slack tub ready to cool the metal. Garrett cheated and lit the forge with a small fireball. Carver worked the bellows to bring them to a white hot temperature that could soften the metal just enough for Garrett to start shaping it. The bars were melted down into a glowing red liquid in an open mold. Using a pair of tongs, Garrett pulled out the bowl and poured the metal into several flat square molds that would serve as the base for the rings’ shapes. The flat bars were allowed to cool to solid pieces before being plunged into the slack tub. The individual plates were set aside one by one as he worked to shape each one. He would reheat the flat bars until the metal was softened and lay them down on the anvil. Carver held the bars in place as Garret used a hammer to start bending the metal. A small shower of sparks flew off with each loud bang, Garrett using his full strength to form the aurum to his desire. The metal was resistant to anything short of Garrett putting all his weight behind the blows. He grunted with effort and was soaking from sweat by the time he finished with the last band.

He had to take a short rest and empty his canteen before he could finish. It had been some time since he had worked as smith and he had forgotten how exhausting it could be. His wounds from the fight were almost completely healed, but his back had started to stiffen from the repetitive movement. The vertebrae cracked and popped as he stood up and stretched to release some of the tension.

“Maybe I should have you fix some of my guardsmens’ blades when you finish,” Aveline said as she held up one of the half rings that Garrett would later bind to another to wrap around the staff. “I’m a little mad you never told me you could work a forge. You could have saved me a few silvers over the years.”

“I’ve been a bit busy running around saving merchant caravans and killing bandits,” Garrett replied with a small smirk, “that seemed a bit more fun than standing around and inhaling smoke all day.” He swiped the band back and set it by the anvil. “Almost done here, just need to do some finishing touches before I put it all together.” Promising to clean everything up once he had finished, he said farewell to Aveline before she left to start her patrol in Lowtown. He glanced up to see Anders leaning back against the wall opposite the forge. He had been watching the whole time with rapt interest. Garrett felt as small rush of heat that had nothing to with the forge behind him.

“See something you like?” Garrett teased as he sauntered over, coming close enough wrap his arms around the other mage’s waist.

“Maybe,” Anders laughed before wrinkling his nose, “no offense love, but you smell like bad eggs.”

“It’s the coal, the sulfur stinks.” Garrett shrugged, he was used to far worse smells so it didn’t bother him in the slightest. He was more concerned about the cough that smiths developed when working with poor quality fuel. His chest was already burning a bit from the fumes, so he intended to finish quickly. “Doing this sort of thing helps,” Anders’ raised an eyebrow in question, “working with my hands, working till I’m almost ready to drop, it keeps the need it check.” Garrett was still struggling to keep the darker, aggressive side of his magic from taking over again. There would be moments where the frustration and rage would burn to near boiling inside as the hunt for the Carta was stalled. He would grind his teeth and his hands tremble as they balled into white knuckled fists. In those moments, he knew he was dangerous to the others around him. He’d try to separate himself from everyone, but as always Anders wouldn’t let him. The blonde would gently cradle his head, rubbing soothing circles on his temples and resting their foreheads together. He only said one word, ‘breathe’. Garrett would first exhale sharply through his nose before letting out shuttering exhalations as he came back to himself. They would get through this together, just as they had promised.

“I can’t say I approve of it the long run,” Anders ran his hands down Garrett’s sweaty sides, “we need something a bit less intense than nearly killing yourself from fatigue.”

“We will.” Garrett affirmed with a quick peck to the other’s lips, “I should finish up before midday, it’s going to get to hot for me to continue.” Garrett released Anders after another quick kiss and resumed his work. He used a small chisel and hammer to put in the runes that Sandal would later enchant when he returned to the Amell estate. It was a time consuming process that did not allow for error, but necessary if he wished to refine the staff for his own purposes. The last part was attaching the rings to the staff itself. This part required both Hawke brothers to work. One brother held the staff steady as the rings were hammered and bolted into position. With all the rings in place, Garrett was able to slot in the crystals and the repaired blade from his Father’s staff. Carver had seemed happy to see a bit of his brother properly restored. The original staff was gone, bits of it had even been stolen by eager nobles who had wanted to collect a piece of the Champion. The blade their Father had used to defend himself and his family was once more in the hands of his eldest.

Garrett rolled the staff in his gloved hands when they had finished, carefully inspecting his work. Despite the lack of enchantments, he was satisfied. He felt more whole and in control now that he could properly fight and cast. “What should I call it?”

“Does it need a name?” Anders asked, he had never named any of his staves, but then again he had also never made one with his own hands.

“Of course, this little beauty needs a proper name.” Garrett gave a small smile as he ran a hand down the length of the blade, “my father called his Rogue’s Honor. My mother suggested it actually, he was going to call it Leandra’s Song, but she hated it.” Both of them smile at that, Malcolm Hawke trying to impress his sweetheart by naming his weapon after her. Not nearly as romantic as one might expect.

“Freedom’s Call,” Anders said, not sure where he had gotten the idea. It seemed appropriate for a weapon wielded by an escaped Circle Mage.

“Freedom’s Call, I like it. Though I was thinking about naming it after you,” Garrett chuckled as Anders rolled his eyes, “I’ll stick with Freedom’s Call. Thank you, love.” The two were interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind them. “Varric,” the blonde dwarf had a folded piece of paper in his hands and handed it over to the elder Hawke brother, “you’ve found something then?”

“One of my contacts just sent me something interesting,” Varric looked sharply at Anders, “it seems there might be Warden involvement in this.”

“What?” Anders spluttered, “are you sure?” The dwarf nodded, “but why? Why would they want to hurt Garrett?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Carver spat as he read the letter of his brother’s shoulder, “the point is they did it and we’re going to make them tell us why.”

“No clue, and little Hawke is right, it really doesn’t matter. My contact says the answers may be in an old fortress in the Vinmarks.” Garrett scanned the letter, his brow furrowing as he did. It included some directions and a mostly blank map with very little to go on besides a name. Janeka. Senior Warden Janeka. “I’d finish up whatever business you have and get ready to head out soon. The letter is over three weeks old, no sure how good it is anymore.”

“We leave at dawn tomorrow,” Garrett refolded the paper and tucked into his pocket. He looked at his brother, the question of him coming along unspoken in his darkened eyes. Carver set his jaw firmly and nodded. He was not going to let his brother go on this little jaunt without him. They had a name at long last. Garrett would find this Janeka and finally get some answers from her. And perhaps a little payback was in order.  

 

The information Varric’s contact sent them deep into the Vinmark mountains. Nathaniel and Bethany had wanted to go with them, but Garrett had put his foot down and refused to allow his sister to accompany them. He instead sent them to Ansburg to find any information they could on the old Warden fortress that the Carta was held up in. Bethany was not happy about being left behind, but Nathaniel was privately grateful not to be along for that particular adventure. He was wary of potentially betraying a member of his Order. His father had betrayed a nation and nearly allowed Ferelden to fall to the darkspawn. Nate Howe was not so eager to join his father in infamy. He had wished the others luck and that the Maker would bring them all back in one piece.

It had taken several days to reach the mountain passage that would take them to the isolated section of the vast range that hid the fortress. Finally, they had left behind the vast, green forests and valleys of the Vinmarks for a much more arid and dry place that seemed completely devoid of life. Even the air seemed thin and dry in their lungs, leaving a lingering trace of dust as they breathed. The only defining mark was a crumbling tower in the distance. Spotting the traces of a cobbled path, Garrett had run ahead of the others, strangely eager to survey this strange new place. He had been making regular additions to his maps as they had traveled north from Kirkwall. He knew it probably drove the others a bit crazy that he would run off or stay behind to work on his maps. But it seemed prudent to keep track of where they had been and where they were going. The maps he had looked at before they left were vague and had almost no features to indicate any landmarks. He wanted the security of being able to find their way home once they were done with this strange business.

“Brother, wait up!” Garrett stopped and waited for the younger Hawke to catch up. It was too bad he couldn’t make jokes about running in skirts. Carver had ditched his full Templar armor for something less constrictive right before they left Kirkwall. He now wore a set that was a mix of deep red leather and silverite. The leather was so new that Garrett could still smell the oils the tanner had used to soften the hide. The only addition Carver had made was a piece of red silk that had a small Dalish symbol on the corner. A token of affection from a sweet elven mage no doubt. “Doesn’t look all that dwarven does it?” Varric and Anders walked up together, having lingered behind a bit to discuss something. Likely more questions about the Champion of Kirkwall’s love life and if Varric could use that as inspiration for his next book.

“These are carta dwarves. So they’re more criminals and smugglers than anything else. They’re not usually stupid though. I don’t know why they’d attack any of you.” Varric frowned in distaste. He always wondered why people thought it was a smart idea to attack Hawke. Hadn’t they seen what happened to everyone else that had already tried? The mage had more lives than a cat.

“They gave it their best shot. I still can’t believe they attacked us in broad daylight.” Carver said. It had been utterly bizarre to watch a small squad of Carta dwarves jump down into the Gallow’s courtyard and start screaming about blood. It was something more fitting a bad lyrium trip than reality.

“Thankfully they failed. And they haven’t been able to kill any of us yet.” Garrett agreed with his brother, he was still quietly fuming that someone had the nerve to come into his city and attack his family. He had tried to bottle it up as he made up numerous plans on how he would deal with the morons who had hurt his brother and sister. Anders would calm him when the fury started to become too much, but it was becoming more difficult as they got closer to their goal.

“You have a plan then big guy? I found their hideout but my sources couldn’t tell me anything else. It’s all very strange.” Varric frowned and reached back to assure himself that Bianca was still strapped to his back.

“Why do you say that? It’s just the Carta isn’t it?” Garrett had dealt with their kind several times over the years, starting with his assistance of Lord R Harrowmont as he tried to escape to Rivain. He had seen more over the years, but most were just thugs hired by various crime lords and vindictive aristocrats. He was more interested in Janeka. The Carta was just muscle, the Warden was clearly the brains behind the scheme.

“As far as my contacts know, yes. But they shouldn’t be here. There shouldn’t even be a here. This place is invisible, a big blind spot on the map. Bianca’s never been this suspicious and she’s twitchy to start with.” Carver interrupted Varric before he could continue.

“Does it matter? We just need them to stop trying to kill us.” Carver had not been sleeping well since the attack, and he was grumpier than he had been in a long time. He had been aware that the other members of his Order were watching him more intently and wanted to resolve the issue so that he could continue his duties without further scrutiny.

“Fine point. What’s the plan.” Varric asked.

“Oh, I was thinking about asking them if they’d like to sit down and have tea so we could make nice.  If they say no, I’ll just rip out their entrails.” It was chilling that Garrett could say the last bit with just as much cheer as if he really were planning to invite them all to tea. Anders knew that something had not been quite right with Garrett for some time now. Perhaps it wasn’t obvious to most, but Anders could see the tightly coiled tension inside him. They had been doing what they could to control the darkness, but this journey seemed to be bringing closer and closer to the surface. Garrett glanced over at Anders after he had spoken and realized his mistake. He muttered a quiet sorry and let Anders take his hand in his for a firm squeeze.

“Uhh…right. I think we need a real plan.” Carver said, “maybe something that doesn’t involve decorating the walls with intestines.” Garrett just looked down as his boots, not wanting to comment.  

“I hate that they could get at you in our home. It worries me what else they could do.” The Wardens had already had Anders go behind Garrett’s back for the maps and now at least one had ordered an actual attack on him. Anders wanted to wrap his arms tight around Garrett and shield him.

“Maybe this is all a big misunderstanding,” Garrett forced out a small laugh, “I’m sure we’ll all laugh about this later.”

“Hawke? Oh, I thought your name was Locke, my bad.” Varric laughed and shook his head. Hawke could be quite ridiculous sometimes. Not so much in the last few months, but it was good to see this side of him again.

“Yes, we were looking for some other combination of general and ringmaster.” Carver gave his brother a small punch to the arm.

“Enough, let’s go. My teeth are starting to itch.” Garrett was reluctant to let go of Anders’ hand as his touch seemed to ground him, but it wouldn’t do to be ambushed while holding his partner’s hand. He gave it one last squeeze before letting go. They made it a bit further into the ruined pathway that might have been a causeway at one point in history, but the walls were little more than a knee high pile of stones on each side. There was no sign of life, only the sound of wind rubbing away ruined stone. The group continued for a little ways with no interruption, until they heard the sound of swift feet scrapping over stone. Suddenly, a dwarf appeared from behind a large pile of stones. His eyes were shining and distant and he wore the armor most Carta rogues favored.

“You’re here, both brothers. You’ve come.” The dwarf’s voice boomed loudly off the stone walls, making everyone grasp their weapons in expectation of an attack.

“Is he referring to you and me?” Carver asked, feeling uneasy as he watched the dwarf’s twitching eyes. It was unnatural, they looked more like a blind man’s eyes with their empty spoilt milk colored irises. More dwarves began to appear as the sound echoed. Many of them heavily armed and displaying the same strange eyes.

“Everyone, they’ve come! The children of Malcolm Hawke. They’ve come to us.” The Carta dwarves had completely surrounded them.

“What does my Father have to do with this?” Garrett was already grasping his staff. He could feel the darkness rising again as the bastards babbled on about his late Father.

“It began with him and ends with you. Blood for blood, that’s what we were told.” Garrett wondered if this was part of Janeka’s orders. If so, why? Had Malcolm Hawke run afoul of the Wardens in his travels? Even then, that didn’t explain the dwarves tainted states.

“Why, did our Father cross the Wardens?” Carver asked. Garrett raised his hand to silence his brother, he had a feeling the dwarves were more than a little insane from the taint and unlikely to provide the answers they wanted.

“You’ve come to us now, and that’s all that matters.”

“You tell me,” Garrett unstrapped his staff, giving Freedom’s Call a swing and slamming the end of it on the ground with a small shower of white sparks. “How could I refuse with such a lovely worded invitation?”

“You don’t understand,” the dwarf’s voice rose in pitch, “we must have the blood.”

“Right,” Garrett snarled, “so much for conversation.” He conjured a large fireball and threw it right into the dwarf’s face. The dwarf screamed and called for the others to attack and take the blood. Garrett used a burst of kinetic energy and launched himself forward and knocked down two armored warriors carrying heavy axes. He landed in a crouched position and thrust his staff forward into the belly of the lead dwarf. The dwarf stopped clutching his burned face and glanced down at the long wooden pole protruding from his stomach. Garrett gave it a sharp twist to sever the inferior vena cava and retracted with a wet slipping sound. The dwarf dropped as he began to bleed out from his internal injury.

Carver covered his brother’s exposed back, using his shield to knock down several rogues that attempted to jump Garrett from behind. Their smoke bombs worked against them. Rather than providing cover, it gave away their positions as Varric used Bianca to rain down a hail of bolts into the smoke.

Garrett charged ahead of his companions, throwing both physical and spiritual might behind his spells. The dwarves saw what he had done to his leader and ran ahead to avoid the same fate. It didn’t stop the mage, he just cast a few well-placed bolts of lightning to slow them. The dwarves in the full metal armor were hit the hardest. The metal proved a good conductor for the electrical current. The lightning would strike the metal and slice through the nervous system and any exposed skin. Those that didn’t drop dead of the electric overload could only moan and attempt to crawl away. They didn’t get far before another wave of lightning hit and silenced their cries.

“Garrett!” Anders called as he watched the other mage run ahead. The dark haired mage was intent on cutting a swath through the Carta ranks and did not stop as his name was called. He watched as Garrett used the staff as both spear and conductor. The blade was wickedly sharp on both edges, easily cutting flesh down to the bone. The crystals gleamed as Garrett cast his signature lightning bolts. They glowed brighter and hotter than they ever had with Malcolm’s staff. Any other time, Anders might have taken a second to appreciate the impressive display of primal magic. “Garrett! Wait!” The other mage continued to ignore him as he hurried down the decrepit path towards the gates just outside the hideout. Not wanting the other mage to get hurt due to recklessness, the blonde cast a spell of haste and took off. It left Carver and Varric behind, but the two were capably fending off the few remaining rogues. He thought he heard them call out his and Garrett’s names, but he couldn’t let the elder brother get too far out of his sight. Maker knows what would happen if he did.

Garrett was chasing down a heavily armored dwarf that had almost reached the gates when he was suddenly thrown off balance as an armored bronto knocked him aside. Garrett rolled and landed against one of the raised battlements. The beast turned on him and lowered its head to charge. He felt a flutter of panic as it’s horns angled in the direction of his abdomen. His armor was strong, but a sharp point with hundreds of pounds of concentrated force could easily pierce the leather and metal to gore the soft skin underneath. The bronto started to run, but stopped as a sudden blue light engulfed it. The beast was frozen in stasis.

“MOVE!” Anders’ voice broke the state of paralysis that had overtaken Garrett. He jumped to his feet and ran around the bronto to the other mage. Anders was shaking with the effort of his spell. The beast was still fighting him with all it’s might and he couldn’t hold it for long. Entropy had always been his weakest point. He excelled in Creation magic and the occasional fireball, but Entropy always left him drained. With a burst of effort, the bronto broke through the hex and whirled on them. The blonde dropped and landed hard on his side. Anders tried to use his staff to right himself, but he could barely move.

Garrett conjured a stone fist and hit the bronto in the right eye. The animal snarled and shook it’s head as the socket dripped a mix of thick vitreous humour and blood. It let out a pained scream and attempted to run the mages down. Garrett grabbed the still immobile Anders and in one fluid move grabbed an arm and leg to swing him up and over his shoulder. Garrett was forced to drop his staff so he could keep a hold of Anders’ knee and wrist, leaving both mages without a weapon.

The bronto’s depth perception was destroyed by the loss of an eye, but even so it barely missed as it hurtled towards them. It only missed Garrett’s leg by a hairsbreadth as the mage sprinted in retreat. Garrett could not see Carver or Varric and assumed they must still be dealing with the Carta dwarves. He panted as he climb the stairs of one of the erected battlements. The bronto couldn’t follow them and began banging itself into the base as it attempted to knock them down. Garrett nearly lost his footing as the bronto continued to smash it’s head into the base. The battlement wobbled and Garrett’s knees buckled under him. He dropped hard and was barely able to hang onto the mage still slung around his shoulders. The blond had fallen unconscious from straining his magic and would not be able to defend himself if Garrett dropped him.

“Come on, come on,” Garrett ground out as he prayed for backup to come. Where were they? One final charge broke down the battlement wall and pitched the two forward. Garrett lost his grasp and both went tumbling forward. Garrett landed flat on his stomach and let out a hard exhalation as the air was knocked from his lungs. “Anders,” Garrett looked at the mage lying next to him, “wake up, now” he was about to shake him when he saw a trickle of blood coming from a gash on his temple, staining both skin and hair red. “No, no, no!” An angry grunt forced Garrett to turn and look at the bronto. He pushed himself on top of the unconscious blonde and tossed up a quick shield to protect them. The bronto hit the shield hard and nearly broke through. Garrett knew the shield wouldn’t hold very long, he tightened his grip on Anders’ neck and waist, trying to cover his vulnerable back if they were indeed to be trampled. “Maker, I’m sorry, this is my fault. So sorry.” Garrett pleaded against the back of Anders’ head, “please, wake up, I need you to wake up love.” The bronto had backed up to give one last charge to tear down his shield and Garrett closed his eyes as he waited the inevitable death by bronto.

He heard the heavy feet pounding the ground and tensed. He waited for the flat feet to break his back and horns to gore him open, but then it stopped. No sound. Nothing. He opened one eye cautiously and saw the beast had stopped dead in it’s tracks. Carver had rammed his sword through it’s skull and was shaking as he pulled the blade out. The beast dropped and did not get up. Carver was breathing like a man who had been seconds away from drowning. He glared at his brother and wiped the bronto blood of his sword before sheathing it.

“You bloody bastard,” Carver snapped  as he stalked over to the two mages, “what the hell were you thinking? You almost got yourself killed!” Carver hauled his brother to his feet, “what the hell happened to Anders?”

“He exhausted himself with Entropy magic.” This only made Carver turn redder. “I know, it’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t tell me that. Tell him when he comes to.” Garrett felt terribly ashamed of his actions. He had given over to the darkness again and nearly gotten both him and Anders killed. If he had gotten Anders killed, he didn’t know what the hell he would do. Garrett cradled the unconscious mage and waited for him to come round. As much as he wanted to use lyrium to speed up the process, their supply was too limited.

“Hawke,” Varric said as he joined them. The dwarf now looked very concerned as he saw Garrett holding a passed out Anders, “what’s wrong with Blondie?” Garrett didn’t say anything, just ignored both his brother and his friend as he poured some of his magic into Anders. The gash on Anders’ head closed as his natural healing ability kicked in. The only evidence was a small matting of dried brown-red blood clinging to a few strands of golden hair. The natural spring of mana inside the other was nearly drained and would take time to naturally replenish. Garrett’s magic would have to suffice for both of them in the meantime.

“Love,” Anders groaned as he came back. The last thing he remembered was Garrett pulling him into a carry before everything went black. His head throbbed a bit, but it was manageable. He could see Varric and Carver’s worried expressions. “Did someone die?”

“You and me almost.” Garrett said as he tightened his grip, “it’s my fault. I’m so sorry,” a tear escaped Garrett’s eye, “please forgive me.”

“Always.” Anders wiped the tear away and gave a weak smile. Feeling his strength come back, he pushed himself up. He was a bit dizzy from the paralysis hex, but it was already fading as Garrett’s magic mingled with his. “We shouldn’t linger. There’s probably more nearby.”

“Blondie’s right. The Carta was worse than a nug infestation. Where there’s one, there’s always a hundred.”

“Great, because this day can’t possibly get any worse.” Carver sighed, still pissed at his brother for his earlier actions. He knew his brother would never intentionally harm his loved ones, but this new impulsive streak could get somebody killed. Next time, he might not be there to prevent it.

“You know you should never say that.” Anders grabbed his and Garrett’s dropped staves, happy to find both undamaged, “that’s just inviting trouble.”


End file.
